I Love Hating You
by cootiegirl
Summary: Maka Albarn is a hardworking girl from Death City, Nevada, living out her dream to work in the Big Apple. But when she keeps bumping into struggling musician and notorious slacker/womanizer Soul Evans, her life turns upside down. AU.
1. Spills and Thrills

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, Converse sneakers, or Billy Joel's _Piano Man. _

* * *

The sound of heels click-clacking on the sidewalk along with hundreds of other pairs of feet was lost in the crowd's noise. Chatter, chatter, chatter. People were so noisy. But after a while, you got used to it.

Maka Albarn. Twenty four years of age. A paid intern at one of the biggest newspapers in New York City. On her way to another day at work.

The late September air was crisp and chilly and bit at Maka's already-pink-from-cold cheeks. She pulled her coat tighter around herself and glanced at the papers in her hand; a rough draft for a piece she was helping put together with a couple of other interns. If she didn't turn it in on time... she didn't even want to think of what would happen to her.

Maka rushed into a coffee shop on her way to the office for a pick-me-up, something preferably hot, creamy, and the perfect balance between bitter and sweet. She had been favoring the dark chocolate mochas lately, and that would go really well with an almond biscotti… She wiped a spot of imaginary drool from the corner of her mouth and made her way into the bustling building.

Enjoying the momentary warmth, scent of roasted coffee beans, and hums of sleepy early morning conversations, she ordered a cup of something cheap, generic, but still caffeine-filled. Sadly the special had changed and her drink wasn't there on the dusty chalkboard; it was now a salted caramel frappuccino. And they were out of biscotti, even though it was only _eight in the freaking morning_. She could just add some chocolate syrup, but it wouldn't taste the same.

Maka pouted, checked her watch, and made her way to scurry out of the door. Crap, she was going to be late. And her boss was not the forgiving type.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of scalding hot coffee being splashed onto her face.

She gasped, nearly dropping her own drink, and looked up to the coffee splasher.

A young man stared back at her with lazy carmine eyes. He was kind of strange looking, to be honest. He had a shock of pure white hair, which at first Maka thought had been bleached into submission, but now as she got a closer look, seemed as though it was natural. The thought "albino" passed through her mind, but his skin wasn't pale. It was tan, almost suspiciously so, which almost made her wonder if he had just come from one of those tanning beds because it's kind of hard to maintain a healthy sun-kissed glow when you're surrounded by skyscrapers and hot dog stands, especially when the colder weather and dark skies were quickly approaching. While Maka's mind wandered, the man was staring at her like she was a tap-dancing fish. A small smirk tugged at his lips, and his droopy eyes made their way up from her no-nonsense pumps to her pencil skirt and floral blouse that peeked out of her coat, to her straight ash blonde hair that was soggy with coffee and wide green eyes.

His slumped posture and grimy Converse high-tops suggested he didn't have a very well paying job, that is if he even had one, which just added to Maka's disgust. This guy was rude with a capital R.

_Does common courtesy ring a bell, Mr. Albino?_

He could at least pick up his cup.

"Sorry," he said, not really sounding like it.

Maka stood speechless, trying to blink the burning liquid out of her eyes.

The man kept staring at her with that bored expression on his face, like he couldn't care less if she had a huge brown spot on the front of her shirt.

With an irritated noise of disgust, she stomped off to the bathroom to clean herself up. _JERK, _she thought angrily, rubbing the insistent stain on the front of her shirt with no prevail.

"What a jerk," she repeated out loud, collapsing on a nearby chair in frustration. After realizing it was no use, she buttoned up her coat, reapplied a fresh coat of lipstick, and headed outside.

* * *

"This," the man boomed, "is unacceptable. What kind of paper do you think we run here?"

Maka flinched as he threw down the papers onto the desk.

"And you're late, too. You're just getting into all sorts of trouble today, aren't you, Ms. Albarn?"

"I don't think the piece is half-bad, Mr. Barett," she argued.

Her boss gave a sigh, picking up the articles and thumbing through them like they were paper-thin leaves. "No, it's all bad."

"You said you wanted something real. What's more real than problems that we're having in our everyday community?"

"Something _real_, Maka, not something that'll make people depressed. If we print an article that makes people _sad_, they won't read it. Capice?"

"Yeah."

"There are plenty of other hardworking young people who would be very happy to have this job." "Yes, sir. I know. I'll try harder."

"Oh, and that was two strikes. If you're late again, you're done. I'm not the kind of man who'll put up with sort of thing."

Her mutter of "got it" was unheard when he shut the door behind her.

* * *

At four o'clock, work was over and Maka journeyed the long way home, braving the crowds and incessant blabbing once again.

"Home" was a small space in an apartment building complex. The neighbors were horrible and the carpet in the hallway was an off-putting shade of pink-brown, but her apartment wasn't too cramped and had interesting blue tiling in the bathroom that nobody but her seemed to appreciate. The rent also wasn't bad for a place like this in the middle of NYC. The landlord, an uncanny, silver-haired man named Stein, didn't care about a whole lot, including his building, so the lights flickered and it always seemed to smell faintly of cigarettes even though "no smoking" stickers had been stuck halfheartedly all over the walls. It was thanks to her father that she could even stay here, since Spirit went way back with Stein and the latter owed him a favor. Spirit's little daughter was leaving the nest halfway across the country, and it made him bawl his eyes out a little less when he knew that she was in safe hands. Or, saf_er _hands. Stein was a little… eccentric. He used to be a surgeon, believe it or not, but something went wrong during one of his operations, and he decided to take a break. Why he chose to become a landlord, Maka had no idea, but it was a less stressful life to lead, she supposed, and she preferred not to get too involved into his personal business so she didn't interact with him unless she was turning in the rent or happened to pass by him in the morning, when she murmured a quiet greeting and he would give a nod in her direction.

* * *

Maka's stomach rumbled. She had eaten her sad excuse for a lunch; a handful of trail mix and a packet of vending machine licorice that tasted like the bottom of a shoe, around eleven, so now she was starving. The smell from a nearby restaurant wafted through the air. What was that, burgers maybe?

It was too crowded inside, so she sat down at a table outside. Someone came by to take her drink order, and then brought it back promptly. Sipping her iced chai, her gaze fell on a two young people who were holding hands under the table and chatting about paint colors for a baby's room while they nibbled salmon and rice pilaf.

"Baby blue and periwinkle are the same thing, dear."

"No, periwinkle is more purple."

They giggled, and for a moment Maka felt a little empty when she saw the big tummy on the proud mama and how the couple were sighing all lovey-dovey and without a care in the world.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud crashing noise. There was a pile of knocked over wooden pallets, and vegetables rolled around helplessly on the ground and into the street; corn, squash, brussel sprouts, green beans. Someone stumbled over a pumpkin and swore under their breath. When they ran past, she saw that they had a head of unruly, very pale hair.

With a swift turn of their head, their eyes locked with Maka's and they rushed over to her seat, sitting down across from her and holding a menu up so that it blocked their face.

She raised an eyebrow and was about to say something when they shushed her.

Another man, this one older, brown-haired, with a chin full of scratchy whiskers and red in the face with fury, tripped on a piece of corn and fell on his butt. He got up, looked around, then resumed running down the sidewalk, growling like a wild animal.

"Is he gone?" said a voice behind the menu.

"What? Yeah. I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter, I was just- Wait, do I know you from somewhere?" The menu dropped, revealing a pair of squinting crimson eyes.

"_You._"

"So we _do _know each other?"

"Spill coffee on anyone lately?"

"Hey, that's right! That was you!"

Maka clenched her jaw. "Hmph."

"So, uh, what are you doing here?"

"Eating."

"Sounds good. What are we having?"

_Did she hear him right? _

He looked up distractedly. "You mind?"

_Oh, no way in Hell. _ "Yes, I mind!"

"I'll pay."

"No! I don't even know you!"

"Then I suppose an introduction is in order? Soul Evans. Horror movie enthusiast. I enjoy long walks on the beach, sushi, and puppies."

"What kind of name is Soul?"

"What's your name?"

"Billy Joel."

He cast a puzzled look and Maka pointed at his shirt, which said _Pianoman. _

"Okay, smartass, here's the deal. You tell me your name, I'll buy you dinner."

"I can pay for it myself." _What was with this guy? Did she look desperate for a date or something? _"And it's _Maka_, not that it's any of your business."

"Maka is way weirder than Soul."

"Whatever. So you're buying, huh?" She deserved a free meal at least. She could feel a migraine coming on.

"Actually, no. I'm broke, and you just said that you could pay for it yourself."

"Of course you're broke."

"Ouch. Do I really look that poor?"

"No. Except for those sneakers."

Soul looked down at his shoes. "Hey. Don't insult the Chucks."

At this time, a waitress came over. "What can I get for you two?"

"Lasagna," Soul said with an easy smile. (Was it just her imagination or did he have pointed teeth like a shark's?) "And your number, perhaps?"

She gave him a disgusted look and said to Maka, "Does your boyfriend usually act like this?"

"He's not my boyfriend! I don't even know him."

"God forbid. I mean, look at her."

"I'll have the chicken salad, and please ignore this idiot," Maka said, giving him a hard kick in the shin. "He's got problems."

The waitress nodded at Maka sympathetically and left, shooting one last look of venom at him.

"Ow," Soul said as soon as she was out of earshot. "That hurt. And hello? That could've been a potential hookup. Thanks for your help."

"I'm not helping you trick some poor woman into sleeping with you."

Soul lifted his shoulders up and down and took a gulp of Maka's drink.

"Hey!"

"What is this?"

"Chai."

He flapped his arms in the air like he was trying to take flight. "This is so gross. Are you trying to poison me?"

"Nobody's making you drink it."

He spit it out in a nearby flower pot.

The waitress came back with their food.

"You didn't happen to see that, did you?"

"Yes," she said in a clipped voice. "But you're a paying customer, so I'm required not to say anything."

"I appreciate it, sweetheart. Thanks."

Maka apologized again and scowled at Soul as she took a bite of her salad. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Well-"

"I don't care. Stop being such a creep."

After a moment of silence, "You do realize I'm doing all of this to mess with you, right?" He picked up his fork and grinned, showcasing a set of knife-sharp teeth. Maka couldn't tell if it made him look dangerous or goofy. "I make you uncomfortable. And angry too, by the looks of how I treated our waitress."

"You mean that wasn't real?"

"I'm not that much of a slimeball."

"You're a good actor."

"It's a gift."

"Who was that guy chasing you before?"

"A misunderstanding."

"What did you do to him? He seemed pretty angry."

"Slept with his wife."

"_What_?"

"Apparently he doesn't like seeing his tenants laying in his bed. I had about two seconds to put on my pants before he came after me with a fucking _chainsaw_."

"Tenants? As in, you had sex with your landlord's wife? That's disgusting."

Soul lowered his gaze but otherwise showed no sign of offense. "She's thirty four, a heavy drinker, and takes a liking to young men who live in her husband's building. She likes me enough that if I come by every now and then, she'll let me off the hook for rent."

"You're very open about this."

"I'm not a prostitute."

"Right. So what are you? When you're not sleeping around?"

"I don't sleep around. And I'm a musician. I play piano. Little bit of guitar, too. For whatever, I guess. Wherever I can get a gig. Usually sweet sixteens or cheap-ass weddings. Sometimes bars. The pay sucks, but chicks dig musicians. And what about you? What's underneath those office clothes?" He smiled cheekily as Maka flushed. "Sorry, let me rephrase that. What's your job?"

"Intern. For the newspaper."

"Ooh, fancy. You ever get anything published?"

"No."

"Must not be very good, then."

"_Intern_. As in, I don't actually get to have things published."

"I thought interns got to write stuff."

"I guess they just don't like what I write." _This guy was getting on her nerves. It was like he knew exactly what made her tick, and he was purposefully doing all of it at once. _

"Oh, you're one of _those _people? You write about high gas prices and starving children and depressing shit like that?"

"You know, I'm paying for your dinner. I would shut my mouth if I were you."

* * *

They talked conversationally about things like the weather, and their food, and other polite (another word for _boring_) topics. Soul didn't make any more inappropriate comments, and Maka didn't bring up anything he had said earlier. After she paid and left a generous tip for the waitress's trouble, Soul thanked her and strolled down the street without as much as a goodbye.

_What a weirdo_.


	2. The Depressing Tale of Maka Albarn

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater or The Spice Girls.

* * *

The next day, Maka made her own coffee. Nobody spilled anything on her, and nobody was late for work. She was working on another piece. Hearing her boss's gruff voice in her head, she thought hard about how to make an article seem… less negative. Which didn't leave her with much. But at least he didn't yell at her today.

A couple of hair-pulling, teeth-grinding hours later, she bursted out of the humid, stuffy building and made her way down the sidewalk. It was cold again. It felt good against her skin. Everyone else on the street wore thick jumpers and scarves and hats that covered their whole faces, but she was dying in her wool coat. She took it off.

As she passed the cafe, she thought she heard someone whisper-shout "_Maka" _and looked up in bewilderment. She stopped, making the person behind her skid to a stop and mutter profanities under their breath.

"Sorry," she said, moving out of the way. They glared and let out a huff.

"PSST," the voice insisted.

"Uh… hello?"

"Look to your right, dumbass."

She did and found herself staring into the face of none other than Soul Evans.

"Oh. Hi again."

"Have dinner with me," he said, ignoring her greeting.

"Excuse me?"

"Have. Dinner." He motioned eating with a fork. "With me. _Food. Sustenance_."

"I have to get home, actually." That was a lie. "There's some stuff I have to do."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Important stuff." She nearly fell over when the crowd of people elbowed their way past her.

"Sit down and eat. I can actually pay this time."

"I really can't stay."

"You're just saying that because you don't like me. First impressions do make a difference, huh? I should've put more thought into what I did. I acted like a real jerk." He winked.

Maka puffed out her cheeks.

"You're going to get trampled. There's a seat here with your name on it." He patted the chair affectionately.

She groaned but obeyed, much to his satisfaction. His smirk was enough to make her bristle, and she had been sitting for less than thirty seconds. "Why are you doing this?"

"I felt bad for mooching off of you yesterday, so I thought, hey, if I bought you dinner, we'd be even."

"Mm." She picked at the edge of the tablecloth.

The waitress came by, the same one from the day before. At the sight of Soul, she nearly jumped out of her own skin in terror and hissed, "_What are you doing here_?"

"Consuming food substances."

Her left eye twitched. "I'll come back with your drinks."

Neither of them mentioned that they hadn't ordered anything. When she brought back two glasses, she somewhat stiffly wrote down their food orders and walked away.

Soul took a sip of his drink.

"What is it?"

He made a face. "Some kind of tea, maybe? It tastes like grass… and oranges."

"Strawberry banana smoothie," Maka said, stirring the straw unenthusiastically.

"Wanna trade?"

"Sure."

There was no tension in the air, unlike their last meal. Soul wasn't acting like he had during the last meal either. There wasn't much to talk about.

Maka poked a piece of lettuce with her fork. Soul's straw made unpleasant slurping sounds.

"So."

"So," Soul echoed.

"What are your plans for the future?" The question was blurted awkwardly. Well, at least now there was something to talk about.

"Huh?"

"You don't want to be playing at bar mitzvahs when you're forty, do you? What do you want to do?"

"I… don't know." He sounded unprepared for that question. "I haven't really thought about it." At her tiny scoff disguised as a cough, he answered defensively: "Well, did you know right away that you wanted to become a journalist or whatever?"

"I knew I wanted to be a writer, I just didn't know what kind. Writing newspaper articles pays more than writing poetry. I guess that's how I ended up here."

"You like poetry?"

"I wrote some when I was younger. I actually kind of wanted to be a poet, but that didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"I don't have a place to start. No one knows who I am."

"I do."

"You don't count."

"So make people notice you. Start a blog or something. Join a writing club."

"Yeah, right."

He shrugged. "Do what you want. But how do you expect to be heard if you can't get out there?"

"I'm fine where I am. I'm making decent money, and if all goes well, I could be working at an actual newspaper soon enough."

Soul nodded knowingly. "Because that sounds like so much fun."

"I need to get going," Maka said. She stood up. "Thanks for paying."

"Have dinner with me again tomorrow."

"Do you think I don't have a kitchen or something? I can eat at home."

"Do it for my sake. I'm your only friend."

If eating two meals together made a friend, how didn't Maka have a whole crowd of pals? She'd tried hard enough at work, but everyone kept to themselves mostly. The only other friendly coworkers were her boss' secretary and the janitor. One was shy and always had her nose in a paperback romance novel, and the other was nervous and fidgety and sang Spice Girls songs while cleaning the bathrooms. You can probably guess which was which.

"You aren't my friend."

But somehow she found herself agreeing anyway.

The next day they ate together.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Maka ended up telling him all about her poor excuse of a father, which was pretty personal. It felt strange to open up to someone, especially Soul, but as he had so kindly put it, he was her only friend. And after holding it in for years and years, she needed to vent.

"So he just flirted with other women openly?"

"Yeah. Not unlike you."

"I'm not married."

"What about your landlord's wife? She was married."

Soul's mouth thinned. "I was wrong to sleep with her."

Maka didn't say this out loud, but she was proud of herself. Over these past few days, she had been forceful with her teachings that you can't mess around with women already in relationships. Soul had been reacting well, in her opinion. He even behaved a little differently now, as if he were seeing everything in a new light. Which was completely ridiculous, of course, but now he wasn't being a complete asshole anymore.

"My mom was never around," Maka said as she swirled cucumber water (the waitress assured them it was their specialty, but she wasn't so sure) in her glass. "She left when I was little. I thought she was just traveling, but as I got older, I realized she wasn't coming back. There was no reason for her to come back, anyway." She smudged the droplets of condensation that pooled together on the side. "She sends me the occasional postcard, but I haven't seen her face in forever. I don't think I could remember what she looks like if I didn't have pictures."

"I remember my parents' faces," Soul said lightly. "Condescending and full of disgust, usually, but I remember them."

"Rough childhood, huh?"

"You could say that. Doesn't really matter now though. 'S not like I'm ever going to see them again."

"Why not?"

"It's a long story, Piggy. I won't waste your time."

Maka stuck out her bottom lip at this. One day she had told him about how she used to always put her hair up in pigtails when she was younger, and he had been quick to dub her with the embarrassing nickname.

"I don't mind."

"I know," he said casually. "But it isn't important."

"How can you say that? They're your parents! They love you-"

"Just drop it, okay?" His cool, charismatic demeanor was gone, voice turning sharp like pieces of broken glass.

She blinked, startled. He smoothed his hair with long fingers and sucked in a breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

"Sorry to pry," Maka said, examining her plate.

Soul leaned forward, arms crossed on top of the table. "Seriously. It's just… hard for me to talk about my family."

"No, no, I get it."

A smile crept across his face, despite himself. "You up for dessert?"


	3. Picture Perfect

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

"You should come to my house for dinner," Maka said one night.

"Is that a good idea?" Soul didn't look up from the beer and wine list.

"Why wouldn't it be? We've spent two weeks getting to know each other. I think I can trust you. And besides, I'm really sick of eating here."

"You haven't tried the cod yet." He made a face at the menu, which was sticky and coated with fingerprints. Maka couldn't help but laugh to herself at the thought of Soul being a germaphobe. She had seen him eat a fry off of the ground before.

"I don't like fish," she replied, not commenting on how he kept track of everything she ate.

He flipped over the list, unimpressed. "Maybe you're right. This is getting kind of old."

"So, what do you say? I can make BLTs." Maka stood up, Soul not long after. He handed her her coat.

* * *

"Need to take a leak," Soul announced as Maka fumbled with the keys.

"Bathroom's in there," she said, jabbing a thumb in its direction. She jiggled the keys out of the door as he rushed in and breathed "thank God". She went into the kitchen, gathering things for the sandwiches.

"Nice place you got here." He adjusted his fly.

"Thanks. You mind giving me a hand?" She tossed him a tomato, holding a knife in the air.

"You could hurt someone with that." He reached to grab the knife, but she whipped it away. Soul eyed it warily. It was a pretty brutal-looking thing, with a long, serrated edge. It could do some serious damage if she wasn't careful.

"Yeah, okay, just stop swinging it around already."

"The one time I get you to listen, and it's only because I'm holding a knife. Hm."

"Maka, seriously, just give it to me."

"I don't think I should do that. Taunting you with it turned out to be really fun."

"Maka-"

"Relax," she said, poking him with her hand. But it wasn't her hand. It was the hand _which _was holding the knife.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Maka!" Her name was yowled, a pitiful-sounding noise like one that the mangy gray tomcat that hung around the apartment complex would make. (No one owned it, but it stuck around anyway. Scratching at the door for bits of canned tuna was its favorite pastime, next to singing cat-opera in the wee hours of the night.)

She clucked, got a dish towel, and fussed over his cut hand, trying to examine it.

"Give me that!" He snatched the towel and pressed it over his wound.

"I'm really sorry! It was an accident, I swear!"

He scowled.

"Soul!" She dragged the word out, putting emphasis on the "o". After seeing that he wasn't having any of it, she admitted defeat. "Okay, let me at least help you get it cleaned up. Let me see."

He put his nose in the air, like a little boy refusing to eat his creamed spinach. Maka hated creamed spinach.

"Let me see," she repeated.

"But it hurts!" He cradled his hand.

"I can help you! You just have to trust me."

"That's likely," he muttered.

"Soul, give me the towel."

He reluctantly removed the cloth, shielding his eyes. "Is it bad?"

"Oh my God."

"What?! Am I gonna die?! Damn it, Maka, you skewered me! I could have had a family! Nobody wants a guy with only one good hand!"

"Jackass."

"_Excuse me_?"

Maka made him look. "It's just a scratch. You dummy, you really had me going there." She shook her head and started peeling the wrapper off of a band aid.

"You cut me! With a _knife_! I think I deserve to scare you a little!" He winced as she stuck on the bandage.

"Go watch TV or something, I'll finish up the food."

His face brightened. "Cool." He walked into her bedroom.

"Uh… that's not where the TV is."

"I know."

* * *

"Soul." She went into her room."What are you doing?"

He was sitting on the floor next to her closet with a book open in front of him.

"Did you hear me? Dinner's read- Hey, why are you looking at my photo albums? That's personal."

He held up the book. "You were so little. Are those your parents with you?" His finger was on a picture of her as a chubby toddler, walking along the beach and holding hands with two adults. One with red hair, and one with an exact replica of her daughter's smile.

"Um," Maka said. "Yeah."

"You guys seemed really happy together." He flipped through the pages. It had been created in chronological order, so as he went further, the photos became more recent. Kindergartener Maka in a pink ladybug backpack, off to her first day of school, positively hopping with joy. Older Maka with her famous pigtails, standing at a podium, reciting the word "apothecary" during a spelling bee. More and more pictures without her mother, and more and more showcased a more serious, hard-faced Maka.

"I think that's enough." She slipped the book back into its hiding spot. "Why were you going through my stuff, anyway?"

"I wanted to see what kind of person you are." He didn't give an explanation of his reply, just rose from the floor silently.

* * *

Dinner was wonderful. Maka didn't realize how much she had missed eating real food in a real house with a real person. The last time had had to have been with her father, and that was too long ago to remember. She decided eating out didn't count. It wasn't home cooked food, and it wasn't private.

Soul was a pleasant addition to the table; his voice seemed to fill up the empty space and his laugh was warm and genuine. It suddenly occurred to Maka how lonely she was before she had met this aggravating, annoying, arrogant man. Three A words. That reminded her, she needed to buy triple A batteries for the flashlights she kept stashed around the apartment. She didn't want to be stuck in the dark whenever the power went out mysteriously (Stein was busy in his apartment performing "experiments" that often caused the lights to fizzle and die) and had to go check the breaker box.

It might be nice to have an extra pair of hands around the house, someone to kiss and hold and have deep, meaningful conversations with. A boyfriend. The word sounded strange; it would sound even stranger out loud. _A boyfriend_. She would have to look into this later. She would also have to thank Soul for sparking the idea in her head. Maybe while she was at it, she could find him a girlfriend as well.

When it was time for him to take his leave, he did a funny little bow and bid her a good night. She felt the need to curtsy and said goodnight back.

"See you around."

"Yeah."


	4. Coconut Shampoo

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, Care Bears, or any other mentioned company or product.

* * *

Dinner dates, alternating between Maka's apartment and the cafe, went on for weeks. When she procured the question of why they couldn't go to his apartment for a change of pace, he just shook his head and said that it wasn't a good place to be, especially now.

So they made do. And for once in her life, Maka felt like she really had a friend. Maybe even a best friend. How long did it take to be able to call someone your best friend? Was there some amount of time that had to pass before you could deem someone worthy? Hopefully Soul felt the same way, because she already referred to him as her BFF, at least in her head, that is. It sounded gag-worthy and just about as juvenile as the Care Bear t-shirt that she sometimes liked to wear around the house, and it made her embarrassed by how much she longed for someone to talk to.

* * *

The fine line between friend and very good friend (again, maybe even best friend) was crossed on one late night.

Maka awoke from a knock on the door with a start, spilling the bowl of grapes that had been resting precariously on her stomach. They toppled onto the ground next to the novel she was reading earlier, and she swore like a sailor when she stubbed her toe trying to stumble out of the room.

"Who is it," she said, the element of grouchiness in her voice ruined by a yawn as soft as the fluffy white clouds that she yearned to be sleeping on.

"It's me," said someone.

"Me who?" Her body was involuntarily sliding down the door frame, knees wobbly. The floor looked very comfortable...

"Maka, open up. It's Soul."

She snapped out of her tired state and opened the door, blinking confusedly at the man standing in the hallway.

"Hey, listen, I'm kind of in a tight spot right now. Would it be cool if I crashed here for tonight?"

"No." She shut the door.

"Maka," he whined. "Please. No one else would take me in."

"With good reason."

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

She peeked through the eyehole and felt a twinge of guilt at the sight of the duffel bag next to him on the floor.

Friends, when they're a boy and a girl, don't sleep at each others houses. Not unless they're under the age of eleven. Boys are sneaky and manipulative and only looking for one thing. All of them are just no-good, dirty, untrustworthy...

"Okay. I understand. I'll just leave then."

Maka cursed herself and opened the door just a crack. "Hold it."

He looked back and went up to her, chin quivering. Much to his delight, the puppy dog face worked its magic and Maka reluctantly let him in. "One night only."

He bounded inside, furthering the dog-like image, dropping his bag on the kitchen table.

"One. Night. Only." Maka shoved the bag back into his arms. "_You _get to sleep on the couch. And if you even THINK of trying any creepy stuff..."

"Fine, fine. I get it. No creepy stuff."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

As Maka turned to leave, Soul caught her arm. "Hey, uh… Thanks." The word was sincere, if not a little rusty from disuse.

"Yeah, whatever." Her eyes strayed from his worn sneakers, up to his red and white baseball tee and the heavy coat that sat on his shoulders.

"No," he said. "Really. If it hadn't been for you, I would be sleeping on a park bench or something."

"Go to sleep, Soul."

He met her weary gaze with warm burgundy eyes that made her insides feel gooey like the triple chocolate brownies that they had baked the day before. "Good night."

* * *

Maka hummed to herself as she poured coffee. Hearing footsteps approaching, she turned around. "You up for some food? I can make waffles or something." Her body froze like a pointer dog, like he was Medusa and she had turned to stone.

Soul meandered into the kitchen, naked except for a towel hanging loosely around his waist. "Yeah, that sounds good." He quirked an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

Maka focused on the floor. _Hmm. Had it always been that shade of pink? How interesting. _

Soul reached behind her to grab an apple from the counter, his eyes never leaving hers. He took a bite.

"Careful," he said in a low voice. "Don't drop that."

Their noses were almost touching. His wet hair smelled like Maka's coconut shampoo.

_What a jerk. Stealing my shower products is a new low. _Despite her brain's feeble attempts at stopping, her eyes flickered to Soul's body.

She would be lying if she said he wasn't good-looking. He had a toned build and smooth, almost golden skin that would have been flawless except for a long scar running diagonally from the left side of his chest to his right hip. His hipbones were another thing entirely; they jutted out attractively in a way that made Maka's hands grip her coffee mug tight, and there was a trace of a happy trail leading down his abdomen, down to his…

_Maka. Stop looking. _

He was certainly handsome, but the day she fell head over heels because of a few muscles did not look to be in the near future. Men were all the same. She had learned that the hard way.

Maka scowled at him and dumped the contents of her now-cooled coffee into his face. He cried out in pain. Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly cooled yet.

"Ow… Ow! Maka! What was that for?"

"Now we're even," she said simply.

"Do you have some weird deal with coffee or something? Every time it's around, you seem to spill it on someone." He reached down and pulled up the hem of the towel to wipe his face off, but it exposed some things down under.

Maka looked away. "I don't have a deal. I actually _like _coffee. And you spilled it on me first, so..."

"Well you were about to pour it all over yourself when I came in," Soul said smugly. "Is that because I'm practically naked?"

"Ugh. No."

He took another bite of his apple. "If you say so."

Maka "hmph"ed and threw open the cupboard door to make another cup of coffee.

"So is that a no on those waffles?"

"I don't have time," she said, busily stirring her drink with a spoon. "I still have to get ready for work, and I haven't even showered yet."

"I have," Soul said helpfully. "It's pretty nice, by the way. I might have used up all the hot water, though."

"Whatever. I have to get to work. If I'm not there by eight, I'm done for."

Soul stopped chewing. "Uh, Maka?"

"What now?"

"It's eight twelve."

"No way. My watch says it's- _oh, crap!_ It's half an hour early! How the hell did that happen?"

Soul peered at her wrist. "Looks like it's out of batteries. And it froze at seven forty two. Huh. Neat."

"No, it's not!" She balled her fists. "I'm going to be out of a job! I know that might not mean much to you, but unlike some people, I actually have to pay rent."

"I pay rent," Soul said. "Sometimes."

"You got kicked out of your apartment! And you're sleeping at a stranger's house too, I might add. I wouldn't say you're very well off."

"'_Stranger_?' I thought we were friends! And my landlord only kicked me out because he found me and his wife-"

"Stop!"

"At least I can have a little fun. When's the last time you fooled around, Maka? You're so uptight all the time. Maybe getting laid would loosen you up."

"Shut up. I have to go. Maybe my boss will believe it if I tell him the subway was late. Are you leaving or what?"

"I think I'll stay a while. I don't have anything else going on today."

"You promised me you would only stay one night!"

"I won't mess up the house too bad. I'll even make some food for when you get home, all right?"

"I don't have time for this," she said.

"Go. I'll be fine."

She poked her pointer finger into his chest to give him a final warning. "One more thing?"

"What?"

"What's with your scar?" She winced at her own words, almost expecting him to throw the apple at her. It sounded way more than a little insensitive, and she didn't mean it that way.

Soul smiled as carelessly as brushing away a fly. "That's a story for another time."


	5. Soul Evans, Ex-Stoner

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater or any other mentioned company or product.

* * *

"So, you made yourself at home," Maka said, opening the window to the fire escape where Soul sat cross-legged, munching a piece of sourdough.

He looked up. "I made toast."

"I see that."

"I was going to make something else, but you don't have much. We should go grocery shopping."

"There is no _we._ This was a one-time thing. You needed a place to stay and I helped you out and that's great and all, but I have a life that needs my attention. And let's face it, you're just going to distract me."

"I have nowhere to go. You're really just gonna kick me out?"

"I don't have a choice! It's not like I can afford you living here."

"Afford? I have money, all right? I can help pay for the rent."

"Food," Maka said. "Utilities. If we split the rent, it'll still be more than you can handle, I'm sure."

Soul shrugged and jammed the last bite of bread in his mouth. "My last place was-"

"You paid your rent with sex," Maka said angrily. "Am I supposed to expect the same here? It's a land_lord. _Unless you're okay with selling your body to a middle-aged straight _guy_, I don't think you'll be living here." She moved to leave, but Soul caught her arm."Wait!"

"_What_?"

"I know I'm poor," he said. "And living with me will probably be hell. But I get the feeling that you're newer in the city, and maybe I could show you around or something."

"I've been living in New York for a year and a half." _And that's the worst reason ever._

"I've been here for five years."

"Wait, how old are you?"

"How old are _you_?"

"Twenty four."

"Twenty three."

"You moved out when you were eighteen?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"That's not really any of your business, is it?" he said coolly.

"Sorry." Maka paused. "Um, I've been paying rent on my own for this long, so I guess if you stayed with me for a little while it would be fine-"

"You mean it?" A grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

* * *

"I don't think you'll want to be sleeping on the couch, so let me think…" Maka scrunched her nose. "Oh! I have an extra room. It's for my work stuff, but we can turn it into a bedroom."

"Sounds great. So what's the 411 on living here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're like, the bossiest person ever. Don't you have some rules or something?"

"Well, I don't know. The basics, I guess. Don't bring home girls. Don't leave the toilet seat up. Don't make a mess. Don't flirt with the landlord. Don't be gross. Don't slack off. I'll give you a month to find a job. If you can't find one or don't have the rent by then, you're gone. You can stay out as late as you want, just make sure you lock up. Which reminds me, I've gotta get you a key…"

Soul cocked his head to the side. "That's a lot to remember."

"Not really. Just try to be responsible."

He laughed. "That's not really my strong suit."

"Clearly. Anyway, I'll get a key after work tomorrow. Until then, you're on house arrest. No leaving the apartment unless I'm with you. And there's one more thing… We can't get involved."

Soul snorted. "Excuse me?"

Maka blushed. "I'm serious. No kissing, no feelings, no sex, no nothing. We're just friends."

"Hold up. You think I'm going to fall in love with you or something?"

He sounded almost offended, and Maka glared at him. "It's just a precaution, okay? I've had this happen to me before, so I just want to make sure this is strictly platonic."

"Maka, I'm not going to have feelings for you. I respect that we're just two friends sharing an apartment. I promise I won't do anything to make you feel uncomfortable."

"Pinky swear?"

Soul lifted up his hands in defeat. "Yeah, pinky swear."

* * *

After going food shopping and eating dinner, Maka went to go clear her things out of Soul's new bedroom. There wasn't much, just a desk, some shelves, and a set of drawers that had held her papers.

"Be careful."

"I got it," Maka grunted. Her arms were wrapped around a stack of boxes.

"You sure? I can help."

"Yeah," she said in a strained voice. "Still got it."

He watched her. "You look funny when you're carrying stuff."

"Be quiet."

"Your face gets all red and sweaty, and-"

"_HELP_," she said.

"I thought you didn't need my help, Rosie the Riveter."

"I AM GOING TO DROP THIS ON YOUR FOOT. HELP ME."

He plucked the boxes from her hands. "You owe me dessert."

"I'm getting _your _room ready. You owe me dessert."

Soul scoffed. "Yeah, right. Carrying boxes is _so _much work."

"Says the guy carrying the boxes," Maka said. "We bought ice cream, remember? Just eat that."

He blew a strand of hair out of his face. "Is there chocolate sauce?"

"What are you, four?"

"Sprinkles?"

"Sorry, champ."

* * *

Soul moved all of his stuff into the room. Not that he had much on him at the moment. Just his duffel bag, which only held a couple changes of clothes and his toothbrush.

"There isn't a bed," Maka said. "You'll have to sleep on the couch until we find one for you. Sorry."

"I have one at my old place. If we stop by, I could get it. The rest of my shit's there too."

"It's late. Just take the couch, okay? We can get your stuff later."

"If my neck gets messed up, I'm going to blame you," he grumbled.

"What, do you want me to go right now?"

"That would be nice."

Maka thought about this for a moment. Well, the guy did lose just lose the roof over his head. It wouldn't be that much trouble to get his things.

* * *

"What if we get mugged?" she asked as they walked down the street.

"We're not going to get mugged."

"Okay, but theoretically-"

He interrupted her worried ramblings."We're gonna be fine. Chill."

Maka coughed. "What's that smell?"

"Pot," Soul said nonchalantly.

"What?" she squeaked.

He gestured to a man standing on his front porch. "He's not exactly hiding it."

"He's doing it _now_?"

"No, Maka, he's just _standing there with a joint in his hand._"

"How do you know what pot smells like?" Her voice was accusing.

Soul shrugged.

"Have you done it?"

He shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "Well, I..."

"Why?"

Surprised at her question, and the fact that she didn't wait for his answer, he played with the loose strings on his sweatshirt and avoided her eyes. That was one of the frightening things about Maka. Those damn green circles were the sweetest, most innocent, most caring things you've ever seen in your life, but when she stabbed questions at you like burning hot pokers, they melted your very soul and forced out the truth.

"Why does anyone do anything? I don't know. I was younger. My life sucked. It kinda helped block it out. Not really a good choice in the long run though."

"You're not… some kind of drug addict, are you?"

Soul smiled. "Nah. Don't worry. I've been clean since high school."

"Oh."

Sensing she was still wary, he promised to show her all of his belongings so she could check for drugs.

"It's here," Soul announced when they stopped at a dirty-looking building.

"Is this safe?" She tentatively prodded the side of the wall, as if it would fall apart at her touch.

"Yeah. But, uh, stay here, all right? If the landlord sees me, I'm dead. If he thinks you're with me, then so are you. Just wait a couple minutes. I'll be back." He went inside.

Maka waited. After a few minutes, he came back, hauling an assortment of bags behind him. "Let's go."

* * *

Back at home, Maka was grumbling at Soul for being so stubborn. He kept denying her help, and carried his things all the way back to the apartment.

"Whew." He dropped it off in his room. "Wait, _crap_."

"What is it?"

"I forgot my bed."

"Are you kidding me? We're not going back."

"I don't want to sleep on the couch. I'll just go by myself."

"But what if you-"

"Oh my God. I'm not going to get mugged!"

"Be careful."

"'Kay. Keep the door unlocked, will you? It's gonna be a bitch to hold a bed and knock at the same time."

* * *

This time, it took him almost two hours. One trip back and forth for the bed frame, and then the actual mattress itself. The bed frame had to be taken apart because it wouldn't fit in the doorway, much to his frustration. When he finally got everything, he was muttering angrily to himself and sweating like a pig.

"Ew." Maka was brushing her teeth.

"What?"

"You stink. Take a shower." She rinsed off the toothbrush.

Soul wiped his forehead and rubbed it on her arm. "Wanna smell my pits?"

"Get out of here!" She swatted him with a towel.

"I thought I had to take a shower. _You _get out of here. Unless you want to watch." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Gross!" She fled the room.

"Hey!" he called. "Some women would consider it an honor!"

"I'm not some women!" Maka yelled back.

"PUT MY BED TOGETHER," Soul shouted.

"FINE," she screamed.

* * *

When Soul came back to his room, he found her sitting on the floor with bed frame pieces scattered all over the ground.

"I assume it's going well," he remarked, towel-drying his hair.

Maka buried her face in her hands. "I can't do this."

"I was just kidding."

"I've already invested so much time into it though," she wailed. "I can't just give up."

He sighed and sat next to her. "You got a screwdriver?"

They got the bed put together all right, but Maka's sanity was slipping and Soul's fingers were sore.

"I have to go to sleep," she announced. "I'm losing it. Enjoy your bed."


	6. UFO's and FU's

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater or General Mills's Cheerios.

P.S. I feel like I'm updating too quickly? Sorry if I'm inconsistent in the future. I just got really excited before realizing that I'm going to run out of chapters. I need to finish up the story in advance.

P.P.S. Not to sound like a whiny toddler or anything, but your reviews really do mean the world to me. You can leave one, if you want!

* * *

"Soul, wake up!"

"What," he mumbled.

"I have to get to work. Make whatever for breakfast. I'll see you later, okay? Try not to burn down the whole building."

"What," he said again groggily.

"Call me if you need anything." She grabbed her purse and shut the door behind her.

Soul raised his head from the pillow. "What."

He decided on toaster waffles, then moved to the couch to channel surf. The remote was likely to be covered in sticky maple gunk, but he didn't give it much thought, which was not very smart since later he had to spent about fifteen minutes trying to scrape it off.

Television got boring, so he wandered the apartment in search of something better to do.

He found himself in his bedroom. Something was telling him that he should probably unpack all of his belongings or Maka would go all axe-murderer on him. Thankfully there were already some shelves up, a set of drawers, and a blue chest that he moved to the foot of his bed to store the random junk he didn't know where else to put. Thank God for Maka. She knew what she needed even before he did. His clothes were actually folded and put away neatly, and even his few other things were arranged nicely instead of just being thrown on the floor like he would have done anywhere else.

Bored yet again, he went into her room. Even though the suggestion of his prudish roommate owning a vibrator or a stash of vintage porn magazines had been shot down, but maybe he could find something else interesting.

Maka's room was filled with books, but he still checked some out that sounded kind of cool. He brought a stack to his newly cleaned room and sat on his bed.

Soul wasn't one of those kids who scoffed at the idea of reading. (You know the ones. Loud. Obnoxious. Always making a huge deal out of how hard it is to open up a book. Usually found picking their noses or poking their classmates with pencils.)

In fact, he was quite the opposite. He spent his childhood in the dull, confined space of an expensive private school, thanks to his rich family. (No, seriously. They could probably wipe their asses with twenty dollar bills and still have enough money to buy a private jet, a yacht, a zebra, and a gold-plated frisbee.) He was well-read and moderately well-educated. If he had stayed a couple more years, he would've graduated and had one of the top schools on his side, which would have been an automatic invitation to pretty much any college he wanted. Not that he would have been able to pick, of course. Mom and Dad had their son set on going straight to a music collage.

He hadn't realized he dozed off until he felt someone shaking him awake. Again.

* * *

Maka found Soul asleep in his bed, circled by an astonishingly large amount of books. When she took a closer look, she saw that they were in fact, _her books_, and before Soul had succumbed to sleep, he had been reading about extraterrestrials, and before that; a book on plant science. His face was sticking to the page.

"Hey, I'm home."

"Mmm…. no… I left the alarm clock on the counter… what… what do you mean it's not working…"

_Is he sleeptalking? _

"Shh… I know… but you have so many cool comic books…"

"Soul!" Her sharp voice snapped him out of his trance.

"Ah! What? Something on f-" he yawned "-ire?"

"You talk in your sleep."

"No, I don't."

"I got the key made for you." She held it out to him. "Be careful with it. I'm not giving you another one."

He pocketed it.

"So, how were the books? Did you learn anything?"

"Um," he said. "Force equals mass times acceleration. Also, aliens. Did you know that most crop circles were actually made by farmers? What kind of idiot would do that? '_Oh hey what's up? I'm just making giant patterns in my field of corn'_."

"I'm glad to see you spent the day doing quality work."

"Your voice is simply euphonious, my friend." After seeing her puzzled face, he grinned and added, "It means 'pleasing to the ear'. I read the dictionary. Well, some of it."

"Want to get something to eat?"

"Actually, I've got to go pick up something from my apartment."

"I thought you got everything last night?"

"This is different."

"Soul Evans, if you come home with a stash of crystal meth, I am going. To kill. You."

"It isn't drugs, honest. I'll be back soon."

* * *

Soul returned with the grumpiest face she had ever seen. No, it was beyond grumpy. It was murderous. He slammed the door and planted his butt down like he was a tree taking root.

"Is everything okay? You look kinda… angry."

"He ruined it," he snarled.

"Who? Ruined what?"

"My baby!"

"Your… baby."

"Yes, my baby!"

"I wasn't aware you had a kid- wait, are you joking or not?"

Soul gave her a wounded look and took her down four stories until they were standing on the street.

"Your baby is a motorcycle," Maka said to herself, piecing it together. "Of course."

"Look what he did," Soul insisted.

There were ugly, black, badly spraypainted squiggly lines running down the sides, as well as some words. "Scumbag", "Asshole", among others.

"Do you know," he said through clenched teeth, "how hard it's going to be to fix this? Fuck. _Fuck_."

"Wait, who did this?"

"The landlord!" Soul howled. "I left it there and as payback, he completely trashed it!"

"Hold on. You're telling me you actually drive this deathtrap?"

"Yeah. It's not a car or anything, but it gets me around."

"It's dangerous! Jesus, Soul! Why would you get a motorcycle?"

"I don't fucking know, it seemed like a good idea at the time! I'm perpetually broke so it's not like I can afford a Ferrari or anything!"

Maka didn't mean to be pushing his buttons, but she really was against the idea of motorcycles. Safety first.

"Maybe I can just paint over it?" Soul sounded like he was about to cry. "Do you think this shade of orange would be easy to find?"

"Oh, man, you're really broken up about this thing."

"My baby isn't _a thing_! And yes. I am. How would you feel if your car got nasty nicknames graffitied all over it?"

"I don't have a car."

"Well, you can just imagine how I must be feeling then!"

"Can't you get it fixed at a shop?"

"Where am I supposed to get money for that?"

"Do you have insurance? Maybe you can get it replaced, if you tell them some maniac came and ruined your motorcycle…"

"No, of course I don't have insurance," Soul moaned, winding his fingers in his hair. "If I had known something like this would happen, I would have gotten it."

"I'll buy the paint, if you want. We can do it together."

"No," he said with disdain. "This is my problem. I'll do it myself." He hopped on the seat, half-heartedly wiping at the marks with his sleeve.

* * *

Soul worked until nightfall, equipped with a sponge, a bucket of suds, and determination.

He was not a perfectionist; that was Maka's job; but when the one thing he actually cared about was messed up? He had to make sure it looked exactly right. And this was all that bitter old coot's fault. There was going to be some serious hell to pay.

He brainstormed revenge plans while he angrily scrubbed his vehicle. They ranged from as simple as sending animal doodoo to his doorstep, to setting up a series of booby traps that started as soon as he left his building. Maybe he could round up the neighborhood pigeons and get them to use his landlord's head as target practice.

Soul really loved revenge plans, and almost all of them involved poop. It was almost erotic to picture the person he hated covered in bird turds.

He suddenly froze. In his effort to take off the spray paint, the original orange paint had also been removed. There was a little bald patch. The "ass" part of asshole was gone, but the fact that the word "hole" was still there wasn't much better. He wished he had just left it alone. He should have taken Maka's advice and gone to a car shop.

It was too late to fix it now. He would have to try again tomorrow. Maybe if he poured black paint over the whole thing, it might look okay? Probably not. He liked orange better, anyway.

* * *

The following morning, he dragged himself out from the warm covers; dreading another day of failed attempts at cleaning his baby. Hoping to scarf down a quick breakfast, he almost didn't notice the girl sitting at the kitchen table as he swung the refrigerator door shut.

"Maka?"

"Good morning," she said cheerfully, turning a page of the newspaper she was reading.

"What-you-? Huh?"

She spooned Cheerios into her mouth, seemingly oblivious of the paint splotches all over herself. There was a smudge on her nose and even some in her hair.

"What were you-?"

"I painted it for you." She scratched at a speckle of orange on her exposed collarbone, skimming an article on "12 Ways To Cook Turnips".

"Thanks," he said a little while later.

"Hm?" She wore a small frown as she flipped through the world news section.

"For… you know. You really didn't have to do that."

"I didn't do a very good job. If you want me to go over it with another coat it might look better-"

"Stop. You did fine. But why do it in the first place?"

"You had enough stuff to worry about without some jerk spraypainting your property. I just figured you needed a break."

"Well, I owe you one. Next time you need me to beat someone up or reach something up high, just give me a holler."

"Keep that up and _you'll _be the one who gets beat up."


	7. It's The Great White Shark,Charlie Brown

_A/N:_ I don't own Soul Eater, Kit Kats, Dum Dums, M&Ms, _Little Red Riding Hood_, any of the Disney princesses, _Back To The Future, Star Wars, _or _Star Trek. _

* * *

Halloween was the first holiday they spent together, which seemed fitting. Those two could be pretty scary with the amount of yelling they could get done. Their clashing personalities were one argument starter; others being Maka's bossiness or Soul's disregard for wearing _clean clothes_ for once.

The apartment complex was mainly older people, workaholics, and trembling, paranoid addicts who couldn't afford a better place, so not many kids came around for trick-or-treating. Nevertheless, Maka had a bowl of candy in case there were some that dropped by. Best to be prepared. And she wasn't one of those people who gave them apples and pencils and bible verses.

No, she bought the good stuff. No cheap chocolate or candy corn for _her _visitors. Soul happened to like candy corn, as he had pointed out, stuffing handful after handful of sweets in his mouth. Maka had swatted his hand away from the now half-empty plastic pumpkin. She scolded him, then shoved it back into his hands when the doorbell rang. He grumbled and opened it, greeting the excitable kiddies with all the Kit Kats and Dum Dums they could jam into their chipmunk cheeks. Besides the deep dark descent into a sugar-induced twelve-hour nap, cavities were the only downside to this.

But thankfully that was on the parents.

* * *

"Do you know," Soul said, setting aside the bowl after a particularly large group of ninjas abducted the rest of the candy, "how many Disney princesses I've seen tonight?"

Maka peered into the bowl hopefully, then shrugged. She had underestimated the number of kids. There was a whole herd of them out tonight on the prowl. Was it just her, or did they increase each year? Maybe they were building an army to overthrow the neighborhood.

"_Eleven."_

"There were some princes too."

"But _Disney princesses_? What about dressing up as Princess Leia, or Marty Mcfly, or Spock?"

"Who?"

Soul looked utterly offended. "You don't know-?"

Maka shifted uncomfortably.

"Come on! Back To The Future? It's a classic!"

"You were saying about the costumes?"

"Oh, yeah. I just think there should be more variety. I mean, everyone is a pirate or a cowboy or Little Red Riding Hood. I remember this one time, haha… I was like, maybe nine, and I was a sheet ghost. Not my best idea, I admit, but I wasn't allowed to go trick-or-treating so I had to improvise. No one can see you when you have a bedsheet over your face." He said all of this really fast. It might have been the peanut butter M&Ms, but something was getting to him. Apparently sugar didn't just work on small children, because Soul was acting like the human equivalent of a squirrel.

"How much candy did you eat?"

He counted on his fingers, stared at them for a while, then shook his head. "I don't know."

"No more. All right?"

He begrudgingly dropped his bag of M&Ms into the trash. It made a sad crinkling sound.

* * *

Like all sugar highs, Soul's came to a close a couple of hours later. He crashed next to Maka, who had agreed to stay up with him watching scary movies. When she realized he wasn't awake to make her watch it anymore, she turned it off and was about to leave when she spotted a smear of chocolate next to his gaping, snoring mouth. Cursing her clean freak mind, she rubbed it off with her finger, but not before waking him up. Her hand was an inch away from being chomped clean off. Soul's teeth had clamped shut when he felt fingers prodding his face. Oops.

"You stupid-"

"What are you doing?!"

"-insensitive jerk-"

"Why were your hands in my mouth?!" he demanded.

"You're a fucking great white shark!"

He looked stunned for a second, then choked back a laugh. Whether it was from her swearing or the strange comparison, she didn't know.

"Why is that funny? You nearly _ate my hand!_"

"'Great white shark'? That's awesome. I'm gonna use that someday."

"I was cleaning your face." She could feel herself flushing and Soul's awestruck stare and marched off. "Good night."

* * *

It was the very next day that Maka received the bad news.

She was being let go.

Her boss had said that he "didn't know how to put this gently" and that he "had a lot of time to think about it". Which made it all the more worse. Maybe she was being fired because of something that she did a week ago. What had been the last straw? Forgetting to file her paperwork? Leaving comments on colleagues papers that were too critical? Accidentally microwaving a sock? (That was a weird day. She preferred to bleach the memory out of her mind, but sometimes a co-worker would hint at it and she would turn bright red and it just ended up being embarrassing for everyone.)

She didn't even really think about how interns could be fired. That seemed so uncanny and strange, like something that would happen in a movie. ("WHO SPILLED COFFEE ALL OVER MY IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS?! BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH")

Sid was a good, honest, no-nonsense man, and she didn't think she could feel angry at him for wanting to get rid of her. She felt angry at herself, if anything. She could do a lot better if she'd "just apply herself", as he always said. Hard work and dedication was something she had trouble with when writing a paper on rising water/sewage costs.

Maka packed up her few belongings and carried them like a shield as the other office people kept their eyes down, trying to ignore her. A couple of them whispered indistinctly, and she thought she saw one slip a ten dollar bill into the other's hand.

If they had betted on whether or not she would get fired, this had just gotten a lot more humiliating.

The other two interns, an bald-headed overachiever named Ox, and his quiet, often smug-faced friend Harvar each gave a small titter, to which she ignored.

Tsugumi waved, her battery-powered kitten sweater giving a sad robotic-sounding meow. The pink-haired janitor spritzed Windex and gave her a gloomy look when she passed by.

This sucked.

And she didn't even get a muffin basket as compensation.


	8. A Blairy Good Time

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

Maka dragged her feet up the stairs all the way to the apartment. When she opened the door, she was greeted by the smell of something cooking.

"Welcome home, honey," said a voice from the kitchen. Soul came over to the table, gracefully setting down a bowl of curry. "I thought we could eat while watching some zombie flicks. You dig?"

Maka didn't even budge.

"Are you okay?"

"I just got fired."

"Oh... really? That blows. I'm sorry. Will dinner and spurts of fake blood cheer you up?" He imitated getting his arm bitten off and crashed to the floor, twitching for extra effect.

"Nothing will cheer me up."

"There's gotta be something." Soul flopped down next to her on the couch, sneaking a glance in her direction. He leaned over. "Maka, come on. It's just a job."

"Leave me alone, Soul." She shoved her head into a throw pillow.

"You know what? We're going out tonight."

"Not in the mood."

"Too bad," Soul said. "You need to have fun for once."

Maka made a growly sound in the back of her throat. "I don't want to."

"You don't want to have fun? I find that hard to believe."

"I," Maka said, throwing the pillow at him, "am just not a fun person. Ever think of that?"

"I know," Soul said with an _oof, _the pillow finding its target on his stomach, "but maybe it's time you learned. Go change into something pretty."

"Jerk," she muttered under her breath, but got up and went to her room.

* * *

Soul stood next to the apartment door, checking the time on his phone.

"Maka, what are you doing in there? It's been like, an hour."

"Correction: it's been twenty six minutes."

Soul rolled his eyes. "I'm _waiting_."

Maka appeared in the hallway.

Soul glanced at her, then had to do a double-take. She was wearing a black shirt which was just a little bit too small so when she lifted up her arms, it showed the soft-looking pale skin of her waist. Maybe it was supposed to be one of those crop top things. Whatever it was, it looked good with her matching skirt. Her legs, which were arguably her best trait, were long and pale and gorgeous, and her even though the shirt emphasized her small chest, it was kind of nice to see that part of her body for once since she usually hid it behind layers of baggy t-shirts and hoodies. A pair of strappy heels were attached to her slightly wobbling feet, and her face was clear of makeup except for some light stuff here and there that made her mossy eyes sparkle and her lips shine with a soft pink.

She fidgeted in her getup. "What do you think? Is it too much?"

He shook his head, voice somehow gone. Struggling to get it back, he cleared his throat and said, "No, you look…"

_Beautiful? _the voice in his head prompted.

"Great."

Maka smiled shyly, an ashy blond curl falling into her eyes.

"Let's go," Soul said, his tone back to cool and casual.

* * *

"This is your idea of fun?" Maka yelled over the bass-pumping, beat-thumping music that was unpleasantly pounding against her eardrums.

"It's better than yours," Soul yelled back, dragging her into the crowd of sweaty, colorful bodies. "Where did you want to go again? A museum?"

"They had a new archaeology exhibit," Maka protested. "It was supposed to be really cool!"

"But that's so… lame," Soul said. They had stopped in the middle of the flashing neon floor. "Here's the deal. You're having a good time tonight if it kills you. I'll be your wingman, all right? I'll help you find a guy, and tonight you will have awesome, meaningless, live-in-the-moment sex."

"Are you crazy? I can't do that!"

"You can with my help!" Soul pointed to the bar. "Go have a couple drinks to loosen yourself up. Then come find me."

"How will I know where you are?"

At that moment, a topless girl on some guy's shoulders raised her glass of something fluorescent pink and screamed. The crowd screamed with her.

"You'll know," he said with a smirk, then disappeared into the sea of people.

Maka made her way to the bar and sat down on one of the shiny plastic stools.

"What can I get for you?" The bartender finished polishing a cup handle and leaned over the counter.

"Um…" She stared at him, stuttering. He had piercing green eyes and tufts of electric blue hair that looked spiky but soft at the same time, and his muscle tee showed off sculpted arms with a tattoo of a star on one shoulder.

"First timer? Gotcha. We can make anything, so just ask."

"I, uh, um, uh…"

"We've got a list of cocktails, too, if you wanna check that out."

Maka looked over the list, utterly bamboozled. She hadn't even heard of half of these. She pointed to a random one with strawberries on it.

"All righty. Be back in a sec." He winked and left.

In less than a minute, he came back with her drink and then went away to tend to another customer.

Taking a tentative sip, she was surprised by how sweet it was and drank some more, giving a shudder. _Maybe Soul was right, _she thought, looking at the DJ and the dancers and the sugary goodness of her strawberry cocktail. _This is fun. _She eagerly finished her drink.

A gang of young ladies passed by her, then stopped.

"Whoa," said one with purple hair. "Who are you?"

"My name's Maka," Maka said a bit nervously.

"Well, hey, Maka! You look kind of down over here. You wanna join us? We were just about to go challenge these boys to a shots competition." She waggled her fingertips in the direction of a group of guys, who blew kisses at her in return. "What do you say?"

"Uh…" Maka looked to the boys, then to the girls' painted faces, then remembered Soul's chiding voice. _Tonight you will have the time of your life._ "Sure?"

The girl squealed. "Awesome! My name's Blair, by the way." She linked her arm through Maka's and they made their way over. "We're going to have so much fun!"

Maka noticed Blair's sparkly sequined party dress and matching heels and was suddenly very self-conscious. Had she dressed up enough?

Another girl grinned at Maka. "You're a newbie, aren't you?"

"How could you could tell?"

"You're not drunk!"

"Risa!" a different girl giggled.

The boys beckoned them over. When Blair let her go, Maka stumbled and almost fell into the lap of a man with dark blue eyes and hair that was slicked back. He caught her easily. "Whoops, be careful. Wouldn't want you to fall."

Maka watched with wide eyes as he kept his hand on hers. A blush crept up onto her face.

Blair and Risa were up first, against two college-age looking guys. The girls downed their shots and the boys followed suit. When it was time for Maka to step up, she did surprisingly well. The hand-holder, whose name turned out to be Gopher, cheered loudly along with the rest of his friends and the girls. Maka smiled, holding up her glass. She could get used to this.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Soul was in the middle of dirty dancing with some girl in an almost illegal-looking pair of short shorts when he decided he should go see how Maka was doing. Excusing himself from the dance floor, he looked around the bar but didn't see her. After hearing a piercing scream, he followed the noise and found her laughing with a group of girls and guys. She was laying on a table with a line of salt on her bare stomach, and some young guy was holding her hips and licking it off of her.

_Body shots are always fun, _Soul thought with a smile. _I knew she'd have a good time. _

But there was something that was bothering him, and he couldn't figure out what it was.

A girl came over to him. "You lost, sweetie?"

Soul felt his nose twitch. She was certainly a, well, _bodacious _thing, tall and curvy, with long curled purple hair and tangerine-colored eyes. "No, just checking on my friend. She seems to be having a blast, so I'll leave her be."

"Oh, her? Quite the party animal! She's in good hands," the girl said, chirpy like a short, sweet note from a small bird. "I promise, everything's all good and safe over here!"


	9. Blame It On The Alcohol

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

The next hour or so was filled with drinking, dancing, shouting, kissing, stripping, and more drinking. Maka was one of the few who had yet to swap saliva with anyone, but her shirt was wrinkled from when she pulled it up to take body shots.

It wasn't until her sixth or seventh shot when she started feeling the effects. Leaning back against the table, she took a deep breath and tried to clear the fogginess from her head.

"Hey, are you all right?" Gopher gave her a worried look.

"I'm just a little tired."

"I've got just the thing," he said. "Come with me."

He took her across the floor and sat her down at the bar. Something brown was placed in front of her.

"Is this soda?"

Gopher laughed. "No, but it'll make you feel better. Drink it."

Soul, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. The girl from earlier had brought some friends over, and they were rubbing up on him like a pack of cats in heat.

But one by one, the sex-crazed kitties left the boy for another or decided to go to the bar. The girl in shorts stayed, seeming to be the only one who was actually interested in him. She laid a number of good smooches on him, but sadly went to go join the rest of her group, who were busily slurping down something out of some tiny glasses.

Hair sticking up and his shirt two buttons undone, he looked across the room with the taste of peach schnapps lingering on his lips.

Maka and her guy were talking together by the bar. His hand was on her arm, and her face was practically glowing.

Soul grinned. She was in the home stretch. With a tip or two from his expert manliness, she would be on her way to greatness. Or, the guy's bedroom.

He was about to go talk to her, but the man excused himself and got up. Soul hid behind a large potted plant and swore quietly when he saw that the guy and his friends were blocking his path to Maka. Spitting leaves out of his mouth, he tried not to eavesdrop, but, well, you know.

"So how's it goin' over there, man?"

"Awesome."

"Really? I mean, that chick sorta looked like a twelve year old." His buddies laughed.

Soul's narrowed his eyes. This didn't sound good.

"Yeah, I know! She's got no tits, dude!"

"Why are you even gonna bother? We've got a whole pack of sluts stripping over there."

"She's completely wasted," the man said smugly. "Did you see her? She practically downed that shit I gave her. Wouldn't even put up a fight if she was half-sober, anyway. Easiest I've had all week! Damn… I'm gonna pound her so hard tonight." His friends whooped and catcalled at the intoxicated girl at the counter. She didn't know they were laughing at her and waved back with a dopey grin.

Soul was seething now. Fighting to keep himself from punching their lights out, he snuck around the guffawing idiots and went up to Maka.

Just to clarify, he knew she was perfectly capable of defending herself. In fact, she could probably hit them so hard they would feel it two weeks from now (he knew this from experience), but in her condition, he felt like he should do something.

She was staring at the ceiling with a dreamy look on her face. When she saw him, she bounced up in her seat, spilling her drink. "Soul!"

"Maka! Let's go, uh, find you a guy, okay?" He put down her glass. _What the hell is this stuff?_

"I already have one," she said, confused. "He's over there. Gopher!"

_His name is Gopher? How douchey can this guy get? _

Gopher turned around and something changed in his expression when he saw Soul standing there, like some kind of feral creature protecting their territory. He put an arm around Maka. "Who's this?"

"Oh, he's my-"

"Friend," Soul said quickly. If Gopher heard that they were roommates, he'd probably have a fit.

"Yeah!" She beamed. "He _is _my friend!"

"It's too crowded here, don't you think?" Gopher murmured into Maka's ear, but making it loud enough for Soul to take the hint. "How about we go to my place?" His hand snaked down and pinched her on the tush, which her short skirt was barely covering. She jumped in surprise.

"Don't touch her," Soul said quietly.

"She doesn't mind," he replied frostily. "Do you, sweetheart?" He grabbed her butt and hoisted her up on the bar counter, pressing his lips against hers firmly. Maka struggled for a second but was too drunk to realize what she was doing and confusedly let him devour her mouth like a hungry wolf. His hand was gripping Maka's arm tight with such force that the skin was turning white.

Soul felt his blood go hot. "Hey, fuckass."

Gopher scowled at him. "You know, I'm getting real tired of you interrupting us. And why do you even care? Are you her boyfriend or something, buddy?"

_Why _did _he care? Maybe Maka really wanted to go home with Gopher. And of course they were just friends… It wasn't like he was jealous or anything. It was just that this guy was obviously a creep. Or at best, he was just some stupid jerk who only cared about getting himself off. And tonight was supposed to be about Maka. _

"Yeah. Or something. Now leave her the fuck alone." His eyes looked like burning embers in this light, and his razor sharp teeth were enough to make him the tiniest bit wary. "There's a table of girls that are taking off their clothes over there. Don't you want to join your friends?"

"She isn't your girl," Gopher said. "Just walk away, man." His hand didn't leave her arm, and it was pissing Soul off. But he kept his calm disposition.

"You're right. But she isn't yours, either. Let's dance, Maka." Soul took her down from the counter and led her to the dance floor. The amount of people moving and grinding to the music hadn't wavered; there were still enough partygoers to fill the large room.

Soul muttered a "you okay?"

She looked up at him with bleary, unfocused eyes. "What… happened to Gopher? We were having fun… I think. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Fun with someone decent. That guy was a loser. You could do way better."

The bright lights and crazed faces and bass-thumping music were turning into a big fuzzy blur right before Maka's eyes. She held Soul's arm, glowy neon flashing at her from every direction. Someone screeched in her ear, making her squeeze her eyes shut.

"Don't like this place," she said with difficulty. Piecing words together was hard.

"I'm right here," he said. "Everything's fine."

"I want to go home."

"Okay. Okay, we're going home."

* * *

After five or ten minutes of trying to get the drunk girl onto Soul's motorcycle, there was finally a success and the two were on their way. Soul hadn't had a lot to drink, and even though it was still a little iffy, he was a pro at driving under the influence so it was pretty unlikely that they would crash into any trees or small dogs or elderly ladies.

"Oooh," Maka said, her arms tight around his middle.

"You all right?"

"I don't… feel so good." Her grip loosened a little.

"No, no, no, no," he said, panicking. "No hurling. Hold on. We're almost there."

* * *

Maka threw up as soon as Soul unlocked the door.

He stared at the puddle in awe… or was it repulsion? It was a whole rainbow of colors. What had she even been drinking? He'd have to keep a better eye on her next time.

_Oh well,_ he thought. _At least she waited until we got here._

Maka moaned, holding her stomach.

Soul helped her get into the bathroom, where she immediately doubled over and proceeded to puke her guts out. He patted her back, handing her toilet paper to wipe her mouth.

She whimpered, staring into the porcelain chair.

Soul held her hair back as another wave of vomiting came.

The room now completely reeked of alcohol. After a while, Maka's stomach calmed down and she was able to move again. She brushed her teeth twice, but the sour burning taste in the back of her throat persisted.

Soul made a sort of bed for her on the couch, complete with pillows, blankets, those saltine crackers that you're supposed to eat when you're sick, ginger ale, and a bowl for in case her stomach changed its mind. He knew all too well how drinking could make you feel like absolute shit, and he thought he owed it to her to make sure that she could make a quick and fairly painless recovery.

"Do you want to get some pajamas or something? Those clothes can't be comfortable."

Maka contemplated that statement, then stripped, leaving only her black bra and panties.

"I meant in your room," Soul said quickly, having the good grace to cover his eyes.

"I'm good," Maka yawned, collapsing on the couch.

"Here." He picked up one of his sweatshirts from the floor and threw it to her.

She put it on. It was too big; the sleeves had to be folded over a couple times and the hem fell down her thighs. "It smells good," she said, sniffing the sleeve. "Like you."

"Uh… okay. Do you need anything else before I go to bed?"

Maka inhaled deeply and gave a serene smile. "Some water would be nice."

When he came back with the glass, she was almost asleep. "Maka."

"Hm? Oh. Thank you." She drank and set it down on the table next to her bowl.

"Um, I'm sorry about fucking up your night. If it wasn't for me, you'd be in some guy's room right now getting it on."

"Maybe I didn't need to have sex to relax! Maybe I just needed a night out with my bestie, dancin' and gettin' tipsy!" She wiggled her hips, laughing.

"I still feel bad though. It looked like that Gopher guy was really into you."

"Doesn't matter. He was a crappy kisser, anyway."

Huh. So she was at least sober enough to know that he kissed her.

She sighed, leaning her messy curls against the pillow. "I never want to see a drink ever again."

Soul chuckled. " I should probably apologize for that, huh? It was my fault that you got so carried away."

"No," she said. "It was those party girls. _You _helped me. You're always helping me."

"Yeah, right. I'm usually the one messing things up."

"Not always," Maka said. "I think you're just kinda lost. But you find your way back."

"Jeez, do you always turn into a philosopher when you're drunk? I should give you vodka more often."

"Not vodka," she frowned. "Star-burry drinks."

"Star-burry?"

"Stah… starb… strawb… strawberry. I'm tired," she sang loudly. "I think I'm gonna sleep now. Bye-bye."

"Bye-bye," Soul said, smiling to himself as he went to bed. "We're going to that museum next time, all right?"

She nodded. "I'm glad you're looking after me all the time. It's like I have a big brother."

Something twinged painfully in his chest, but he ignored it; probably indigestion or just a side effect from one too many drinks. "Good night, Maka."


	10. Dino Nuggets

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, Family Feud, Ben and Jerry's, The Food Network, or Giada De Laurentiis's _Everyday Italian. _

* * *

Maka woke up with the worst headache she had ever had in her entire life. When she stood up, her stomach flipped violently, making her bend over her puke bowl. Thankfully she didn't have anything in her stomach to throw up.

"Oh," said someone behind her. "You're awake."

Maka turned to see Soul standing in the kitchen.

His brow furrowed. "You okay?"

She raised her shoulders up and down. "I think I'm just tired."

"You slept for thirteen hours. You're not tired. It's a hangover."

"I know what a hangover is," Maka muttered. "But I'm tired. Sleepy tired, but also like my body's tired. It hurts. A lot."

"You should take a shower. I'll make something to eat."

"I don't want to. I want to sleep."

"You can sleep soon. I promise."

With a sigh, she reluctantly grabbed a pair of pants and a shirt from a laundry pile on the floor and took off Soul's sweatshirt.

Quickly remembering that she wasn't wearing anything underneath, Soul looked away but then looked back. He couldn't even focus on her bare skin; there was a large bruise on her forearm. He let her put on a shirt and then rolled up the sleeve again to reveal the mark. It was an ugly shade of blue/black/purple/yellow.

"What is this?"

Maka lowered her gaze and tried to pull down her sleeve.

"Maka, answer me," he said harshly.

"I don't-" she mumbled.

"Did Gopher do this?"

"I-"

"Maka!"

"Yes," she said, almost tearfully. "He did it. But he was probably drunk, and-"

"Don't defend him! He hurt you! Damn it!"

She squeezed her eyes shut. A tear rolled down her cheek. Soul realized he had been gripping her wrist and let it drop, shocked at his own actions.

"I'm sorry. Maka, I'm sorry. I just can't believe he did that to you."

Maka didn't say anything.

"I can't believe that I let him do that to you," he said in a hushed voice.

"It wasn't your fault."

Soul stared at her. Smudged makeup from the night before, unwashed hair, standing in nothing but a baggy shirt and underwear, and she didn't look unattractive in the slightest.

Maka sniffled, avoiding his eyes.

"He didn't… do anything else to you," Soul said, a sickening feeling starting in his gut. "Did he?"

"Like what?"

"You know what I mean, Maka. Don't you think he would've tried to do something? I've heard those bathrooms were pretty nice."

"He didn't try anything with me. Why would he?"

"Because you were a drunken _mess _when I found you, and if he wanted to do something he would. Do you realize how vulnerable you were last night? He could have put rape drugs in your drink, or worse."

Maka was crying now.

"Don't," Soul said. "Come on, stop crying. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Why did Gopher go for me?"

"Huh?"

"I'm not pretty. I'm a flat-chested dork. There's no reason why he would waste all that time and energy just so he could..."

"He was just your typical douchebag," Soul said. "He'd do anything to get into a girl's pants, not any one in particular, either. And who said anything about you being a flat-chested dork?"

"You call me that all the time."

"Oh. Ahem. Right. But you know what? I think you were being a dumbass last night. You need to be more careful next time. Actually, no. There won't be a next time. Forget I said anything."

"I d-didn't mean to be a dumbass. I was just doing what you told me."

A sharp pang of realization hit him like a blow to the face. He was the one who brought her there in the first place. If it hadn't been for him and his stupid ideas, she would've been safe at home, watching Family Feud reruns on the couch with a carton of Ben and Jerry's.

"This is all my fault."

"You were trying to help me feel better."

"I'm such an idiot..."

"Stop it! You are one of the most caring, considerate people I have ever met. To hell with anyone who says otherwise. Don't beat yourself up about this."

"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you."

"You had good intentions." She smiled and put a hand on his arm.

"Look at that." Soul sighed. "You're comforting me. It should be the other way around, you _flat-chested dork_. Now go get yourself cleaned up."

* * *

She felt better after being doused in hot water and eating a sandwich that her roomie had so kindly made for her. _Specially made, _he had said. _I cut the crusts off. _

Maka didn't have a problem with bread crusts, and when she pointed this out, he just sulked. It took a promise to make dinosaur chicken nuggets for dinner to get him to cheer up. They spent the rest of the day watching cooking shows on the Food Network.

"How do they make it look so easy?" Maka nibbled on a triceratops head.

Soul shrugged. He chewed, swallowed, and answered with a snide, "Cooking _is _easy. The problem is you."

"I can cook just fine," she sniffed, fighting the urge to shove him and send him toppling off of the couch.

"Say, do these dino nuggets seem a little underdone to you?"

Maka examined the tiny, misshapen velociraptor and threw it back down on Soul's plate. "Shut up."

"This doesn't even count as cooking anyway," he said.

"Can you make boeuf bourguignon?" Maka quipped. "Or tiramisu? Or flambeed pineapple with… saffron sauce?" She peered closer at the TV screen.

"Yes," he shot back. "Except, if I tried to flambe anything, I would probably set the kitchen on fire."

"Is the aspirin gone?" She winced and lifted up the hem of the blanket that was draped around her and Soul, as if the pills would be hiding under it.

He shook the bottle with a hollow-sounding rattle and handed it to her. "Your head still hurt?"

"Yeah." She popped a couple in her mouth.

"It's just from last night, right?"

"Mm hm."

"You're not sick or anything? 'Cause, I mean, sometimes you think it's a hangover, and it turns out to be the flu, and-"

"Hey. I'm fine, I swear. I'll be better tomorrow. I gotta return to being a functioning part of society. Which means finding a job." She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms.

"There's no rush," he said reassuringly. "I can pick up a gig or two this week, and it would be enough to cover food and stuff. You don't have to get back out there right away. You need a break."

Maka patted his arm. "You're cute when you're worried."

"I'm not worried," he scoffed. "But seriously," he added in an undertone, "just relax, okay? You can return to society in a couple weeks."

"Whatever you say." She closed her eyes.

Not that she would ever make a point to say this out loud, but this was one of her favorite things. Lazing on an overstuffed couch with the soft voice of Giada Di Laurentiis talking about pasta in the background. A cozy blanket over her bare toes. Someone's absentminded hand covering those toes when they peeked out from under the fabric. The steady breathing of another human right next to her was both comforting and lulling her into a nice nap. Her head fell into the crook of Soul's arm. He quickly moved to scoot away, but she pulled him back into his spot and rested her head in his lap. He placed his hand tentatively on her hair, suddenly thinking of how much he wanted to run his fingers through those silky strands.

She looked pooped. Poor girl. Feeling nauseous and achy all day was not a fun thing to do, plus a splitting migraine on top of that, and especially after being humiliated about what had happened at the club. Soul placed a gentle kiss on her head as a "sorry". Then he felt weird and hoped she was already asleep so that she didn't notice. She didn't respond, but smiled in her sleep. Driven by a strange fluttering in his stomach, he stroked her hair and felt oddly satisfied after confirming that it was as soft as he imagined.

"..._Okay, so you can make this with any kind of pasta, but I used farfalle because I think it's the perfect shape. The word 'farfalle' means 'butterfly' in Italian. See, they look like little butterflies_…"


	11. Turkey Comas

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

By the time Thanksgiving came around, they were both irritable and cranky. Soul had been working his butt off, taking any job that he could find. On one occasion, he had to go play at a wedding right after an eighty-six year old's birthday party. Meanwhile Maka attended interview after interview with no luck. Shoe saleswoman, store clerk, fast food worker, anything that seemed doable and even if it was minimum wage, she would take it without thinking. Scraping up enough money to pay rent was hard. She was smart and handled all of her money wisely, but even so, it was starting to run out, and they couldn't live off of Soul's emergency funds forever.

It was forty eight hours until Turkey Day, and neither of them wanted to cook. Soul had worked his fingers to the bone, and Maka was close to having a nervous breakdown after over a week of job-searching where she didn't even stop to rest. Soul made her take a nap and eat something before she went into a catatonic state, but even then she was nearly in tears, wailing something like "I'M A FAILURE, NO WONDER NO ONE WILL HIRE ME".

He decided that the last thing they needed was PB&Js for their Thanksgiving dinner. He let Maka sleep, then surprised her with a cartload of food when she woke up. That got her excited. She talked while they cooked; about her family and where she grew up, "Death city, Nevada, born and raised," she had declared proudly, some scattered childhood memories. She reminisced about earlier Thanksgivings. Her mother was a great cook. She whipped up fresh berry pies and green beans with those fried onions that came in a can (Maka stole handfuls of that stuff when she thought no one was looking), and her mashed potatoes were always perfectly fluffy.

She tried to do them the same way, but couldn't quite seem how to. It made her sad. Yet another thing that slipped from her mind. She was scared that she would eventually forget everything about her.

Soul talked about his traditions, too. His whole family came over to his house for the holidays. There was a long table that everyone sat at, and they had heavy linen napkins and silver-plated forks. The turkey was centered in the middle, like the crown jewel of the meal. Side dishes were placed in circles around it, hot buttered rolls huddled in a covered basket, richly colored sauces and jellies sat in little ceramic bowls. Food was taken very seriously in his home. But then again, what wasn't? He kept to himself mostly, pushing bits of cranberry around his plate and only speaking to answer a question that was asked by a relative and almost always about his music. To them, he was nothing but a pair of piano-playing hands. Adults exchanged polite conversations and sipped red wine. Soul bit down on his lower lip. Family affairs were probably his least favorite thing. Ever. Maybe he could sneak some wine after everyone had had their fill. Being fuzzy-minded and drowsy was better than this. Anything was better than this. He tasted blood in his mouth and sighed.

In the present, he peeled carrots and laughed at Maka's horrified expression when she put the mixer on a too-high speed, which then splattered potato all over her front.

She cleaned herself up, smacked him with a dish towel, rolled up her sleeves, and stared at the bird with a frightening look of determination. If it hadn't been already dead, her ferocity would have scared it into having a heart attack.

A few hours, six band-aids, a smoke alarm reset, and a black eye later, dinner was finished.

"I'm sorry about your eye."

"You apologized like, four times already. It's fine."

"But I'm the one who hit you, and-"

"With a turkey." Soul raised his e-yebrows. "Technically, it would be the turkey's fault, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, forget it."

"This is good."

"Yeah. We did okay, didn't we?"

"I'd say so. Sure beats having dinner with my parents."

Maka lifted her sparkling apple juice. "A toast. To friends. I'm thankful that I met you, Soul Evans."

"Hear, hear." His eyes twinkled as the glasses clinked together.

* * *

After stuffing themselves into a coma, they went to bed early.

_Something in turkey makes you tired, _Maka thought to herself. _I read that somewhere. _

"I'm thankful that I met you too, Maka Albarn," Soul said out loud when he settled into bed. He could almost hear her say "I know" in response. "You're the best family I've ever had."

"You too," came a muffled response.

Oh, shit, she had actually heard him. And answered.

"Uh…"

"I'm thankful that I have such a great roommate," Maka said. "I'm thankful for your help. In everything. I really mean it. You're a good person, Soul."

He laid awake for a while before saying anything. He was afraid he had waited too long and she had fallen asleep, but when he mumbled a "yeah", she gave a quiet laugh and told him to have sweet dreams.


	12. Pink Heart Panties

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

"I found a job," Soul said into the phone.

Maka frowned, not that he could see it. "You did?"

"Yep."

"Do I want to know what it is?"

"You should be proud. It's not illegal, degrading, or embarrassing."

"_Shocker_," she deadpanned.

"That's just mean," he said. "Bartender. I'm a bartender. At the club we went to. You know that blue-haired bonehead who works there? Black Star? He's actually pretty cool. He's showing me the ropes later."

"Mixing booze," Maka said. "Wow."

"At least I'm not a male stripper or something."

"That'd be a sight."

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing. I gotta go. See you soon."

"You better be home in time for dinner. We're making pizza to celebrate."

"That is if I can find a job."

"You will. You can handle anything."

The phone rang. Soul picked it up with a tomato sauce-covered hand and grimaced. "Hello?"

"I'm gonna be late coming home."

"Why? Did you get a job?"

"Not yet."

"Then what-"

"Just save me some pizza, okay? I'll try to be there as soon as I can."

"Any preferred toppings?"

"Just no pineapple."

"Pineapple's the best," he said in disbelief. "What is wrong with you?"

She hung up.

He shook his head, putting the phone down on the counter. It was now slathered with red sauce.

Soul cleaned up the dishes and wrapped a few pieces of pizza in foil in case Maka wanted it when she came back. Although it was pretty late. Maybe she got dinner somewhere else. When he felt himself starting to fall asleep, he went to his own room and passed out.

He heard noises around eleven thirty. Armed with a heavy duty flashlight (extra shiny) and an umbrella (the nearest weapon-like object he could find), he went outside and yelled a battle cry.

Of course, hearing a high-pitched shout when you thought everyone was asleep was absolutely terrifying. Maka let out a sharp scream and dropped her pizza.

"Maka, what the hell are you-"

"Eating dinner, what does it look like," she said, trying to recover her food. The five second rule definitely did not apply in their filthy kitchen. She threw it in the garbage.

"Where were you?"

"Out."

"No shit. I was starting to get worried! You could have at least called me."

"I'm sorry, okay? I found a job! Aren't you glad? Now I can help pay the rent on time."

"What kind of job?" he grumbled.

"I have two choices, actually. That cafe was hiring. You know, the one that we met at?"

"Yeah. Don't you have to wear some weird uniform or something though?"

"It's better than the second choice," she muttered.

"Wait, what's the second choice?"

"Another waitressing thing. But at a club."

"The one that I'm working at?"

"No. A different one."

"The only other one I know of is that strip club downtown," Soul said. "_Oh my God._"

"It's not like I get much say in this. We need money."

"You're not working at a strip club, Maka."

"I thought I could handle anything!"

"I don't want you serving disgusting old men who'll grope you! Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I don't need you to save me all the time!"

"Are you going to walk around half-naked just so you can prove me wrong?"

"I don't know! Am I?"

"Forget it. This is bullshit." He moved to walk away, then turned around again. "I'm not trying to save you. I know you can defend yourself."

"Then what are you trying to say, Soul?"

"That I don't want you getting hurt. I've caused enough damage in your life already."

"If I got hurt, it wouldn't be your fault."

"Yes, it would, because I had a chance to stop it."

Maka sighed. "A uniform would look better on me than a thong, anyway," she said sheepishly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just hate feeling like I need to be protected by someone."

"Maybe we could meet somewhere in the middle. I have your back and you have mine?"

She cracked a smile. "It's a deal."

Maka's first day at the cafe was a nightmare. Her boss, who was tall, sullen, and always looked slightly pissed off, handed her the uniform and told her to clean the bathroom.

The first problem was that it didn't fit. The top part, a sort of apron with puffy sleeves, felt like it was two sizes too small, like some kind of corset that was meant to squeeze your internal organs together. Not to mention the neckline was embarrassingly low cut, and didn't look at all flattering. The skirt was the same way. It was poofy and the fabric was so see through that the patterns on her underwear (little pink and red hearts, thankyouverymuch) could be spotted from a mile away. The thigh high stockings and black shoes fit fine, but that was because she had brought them from home.

The second problem was that she had to wait a whole hour before getting another size. Her boss, who she was instructed to simply call "Mr. Master", not that that was at all creepy, had taken his own sweet time looking through the back room, and when he came back with it, Maka was being whistled at by a large group of teenage boys. Thankfully his steely glare was enough to scare them out the door, and a very humiliated Maka grabbed the clothes, squeaked a thank you, and went to change.

This time it was better. The shirt was slightly baggy, which was probably from her lack of bust, but she was okay with that since it meant obscuring her figure as much as she could. She also noticed that this one had buttons near the chest that snapped together to hide her nonexistent cleavage. Thank the Lord. The skirt was still shorter than anything she had ever worn before; it barely covered her butt and if she moved too quickly she would accidentally flash her panties, but it still fit nicer than the other one. She had to admire herself in the mirror for a minute or two. She really did look cute, and that was something she didn't admit to herself often. She tied up her hair with a ribbon and walked into the bathroom. Scrubbing toilets wasn't the worst thing she could be doing.

The rest of her shift was spent sweeping, dusting, organizing, reorganizing, and finally, making coffee. Her boss was reluctant at first but when she assured him that she knew how to brew the beans, he relaxed and went to take his break.

Dealing with the coffee _buyers _was probably the worst part. She would scrub a thousand toilets if it meant never having to put up with abuse from unhappy customers. Listening to babies crying as their frazzled moms changed their order four or five times, snotty women in sports bras who just came back from yoga asking if they served organic wheatgrass, sweaty construction workers who ogled at her uniform and held up the line trying to talk to her. People. Were. So. Frustrating. No wonder her boss had to take a break every fifteen minutes. Suddenly she felt closer to him. Understanding his pain could be just enough to break the ice and make him loosen up. Maka liked making good impressions on people, especially if they were paying her.

The walk back home was mortifying as well. She had been so anxious to leave, she forgot to change her clothes, so now she was walking down the sidewalk wearing something that resembled one of the Halloween costumes that attracted men more than it did candy. She got multiple whistles and shouts of "YEAH, GIRL! DAMN!" and was nearly in tears once she locked herself inside.

* * *

Soul wasn't home yet, so she couldn't talk/cry about how horrible her day was to him. Growling in frustration, she lifted the apron off and tugged down the skirt and threw it into her room so it hit the wall. Selecting one of Soul's clean white undershirts and a pair of his boxers, she changed and crawled into her bed and started crying. She was exhausted and angry and it wasn't until two hours later when her roomie found her sniffling into her pillow, clutching at the front of what looked like one of his shirts.

He knocked on the door. "Hey, you okay?"

Maka sat up, twisting up her sheets in the process and looking like a mummy who had just come back to life.

"...You look like hell. Want me to leave you alone for a while?"

She shook her head.

"I'm going to make dinner. Come out if you want."

She got out of bed, trailed him into the kitchen, and sat at the table listening to him cook. It was probably just something simple like scrambled eggs and toast (he loved himself some breakfast food), but it was relaxing to watch him bustle around the room.

It turned out to be tacos. And they looked really good.

Soul was about to take a huge bite when she spoke. "Would you want to see my underwear?"

He choked on something, which was weird since he didn't actually have anything in his mouth besides air and spit. "_Excuse me_?" He'd already seen her underwear plenty of times while doing laundry (his first experience coming face to face with a pair of very pink and very silky panties nearly shocked him out of his wits and brought on a wheezing cough attack) but he had a feeling this wasn't the same thing.

"My uniform shows off everything. And I mean everything. Why would someone make clothes like that? Aren't panties supposed to be _under _your skirt?"

Soul sputtered for a second, then cleared his throat. "Uh… I don't know. It's probably because a guy designed them."

"It's embarrassing," she said gloomily, taking the taco from his plate.

"You can complain to your boss about it," Soul said. "There's gotta be some other employees who aren't happy about the uniforms."

"Not a chance. The other girls like them. Short skirts affect men like a love pheromone."

"I'll bet," he muttered.

"Do you think you could check it out for me?"

Soul choked for a second time. "Y-you want me to see your-?"

"I don't trust anyone else," she said, talking through the food in her mouth and accidentally spitting a piece of cheese across the table.

_How is it possible to look this cute when you're chewing with your mouth open?_

He gave a great long sigh, like it was _such _a burden to have to see her wearing almost nothing. "Fine."

_A girl wants me to see her in a stripper-worthy outfit, and it's because she thinks of me as a brother. Awesome._

* * *

It was everything a stripper would wear and more. Lace, ribbons, ruffles, the whole shebang. It didn't suit Maka at all, but in a way it kind of did.

The uniform looked nice on her. And "nice" in the sense that Soul had to fold his hands in his lap because something was stirring in his pelvic region that was certainly _not _okay. Brothers do not get turned on by their sisters dressing up in sexy clothes.

Maka huffed impatiently, hands at her sides. "Look how short this is!"

"I'm looking."

She turned around, and Soul got a full shot of hearts. "Um, I know this is awkward, but exactly how much is visible when I bend over?"

_Are you fucking serious. _

"A lot," he says truthfully, trying not to stare too intently, because the skirt was making her butt look ASSolutely (get it? It's a butt pun.) fantastic.

He had to physically get up out of his chair and stare at the ceiling when she showed off more than that.

"Tights might help," Maka mused to herself. "But then what about my socks? I guess I could just wear shorts underneath my skirt. Yeah, that would work." She turned again to face him, beaming. "Thanks, Soul! I knew I could count on you!"

She was so goddamn innocent. Or maybe just ignorant. She knew perfectly well how men reacted to her uniform, but for whatever reason, she decided to flaunt her goods to Soul of all people. And she was aware of how dirty and immature he could be, but he didn't have the heart to protest about the panty shots that he had witnessed on this fine evening. No complaints there.

"Save me another taco," she called, sticking her head out the door and trying to tie her hair up while attempting to hop out of her skirt.

"You got it." He had a feeling hearts were going to be in his dreams that night.


	13. The Tragic Tale Of Soul Evans

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater

* * *

Maka was almost asleep when she heard her door creak open. A figure stood in the doorway.

_This is a beginning to a bad horror movie, _she thought. _Unless this is a dream. _

The figure just stood there, so she wasn't particularly scared. Then it sneezed.

She turned on her bedside lamp and squinted. "Soul?"

He was wearing multiple layers of sweatshirts and it looked like his teeth were chattering. "My heater's broken," he said miserably.

"I don't know how to fix heaters." Her voice was flat, but she felt bad. It was starting to get really cold out. The leaves were nothing more than empty husks rattling around on the frozen ground, and the trees looked like skeletons. They would probably get some snow soon.

"Can I sleep in here?"

"Ugh…" This was pushing it. "Fine. But get too comfortable and you're out."

He nodded obediently and hopped in next to her. She could feel him shivering through the covers and sighed.

Maka turned to him and put a finger to his nose. It was ice cold. He opened his eyes. "What are you doing?"

His gaze was curious, then surprised when she gingerly wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't grope me or I'll shove a book up your..." Her eyes closed, rendering the rest of her sentence unspoken.

Soul rested his hands on her back. When they started to wander, Maka, without even looking, said, "Soul?"

"Yeah."

"That's my butt."

"Sorry."

An hour later, she cursed herself. _This was not a good idea. _

Soul snored. Loudly. And he rolled _everywhere. _Maybe he was one of those overactive dreamer people. Well, that would explain the flailing arms and legs. At one point, he even tried to spoon her. She almost brought a book down on his head but decided against it and replaced a pillow with her body. He wouldn't know the difference.

_You owe me, _she said to him in her head. _Big time. _

"Good morning" Maka glanced at the stirring pile of blankets on her bed from where she stood in front of a mirror.

Soul rubbed his eyes. "What time is it," he yawned.

"Six fifty two." She smacked her lips, muttered "too bright" and wiped the red coloring off her mouth.

He sat up groggily.

Maka giggled at his cowlicked hair and then crossed her arms. "Whoa. When did you take off your shirt?"

"It got too hot. Sue me."

"Too cold, now it's too hot," she said under her breath. "Make up your mind."

"Make sure to call Stein to fix my heater," Soul said. "Unless you want me sleeping in your bed again. It wasn't too bad though, right?"

"You drooled on my blanket and kicked me in the stomach. Not to mention the cuddling," she said, picking up a hairbrush.

"Cuddling? No way. I don't sleep cuddle."

"Tell that to my pillow. You were holding it the whole night."

Soul spluttered. "I was not!"

Maka rolled her eyes. "Put on a shirt and…"

He got out of bed, making her stop in her tracks. Nothing was covering his scar, and as bad as she felt, Maka couldn't help but look at it. Soul noticed, but wasn't angry.

"Car accident," he said simply. "I might as well tell you now. I mean, it's not like I'm just gonna hide it from you forever."

"Oh." She twisted her fingers, uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to stare."

He shrugged. "It's okay. Everyone does."

"What happened?"

"My parents and I were on our way to one of my piano recitals. Some drunk driver swerved and hit our car before we had a chance to move. My mom dislocated her shoulder. My dad was fine, just a few scratches but nothing major. My brother, Wes, he wasn't with us. Away at college... when he heard about the accident he came right away. Everybody cares when baby brother gets hurt." He scoffed. "I was a mess. Broken arm… the car had flipped on its side, and I was crushed by the passenger's seat. A piece of the door or something, something metal was pressed up against my chest. I was stuck. By the time I got to the hospital, my clothes were completely soaked with blood and I was unconscious. Doctors had to sew me back together. They said a couple more minutes and I would've bled to death. I was fifteen." He scrunched the fabric of his shirt in a fist. "Hurt like hell. I don't remember the hospital stay. I know my brother came to see me. Even left a card. 'Sorry we had to miss your performance.'"

Maka didn't know what to say.

"When I got better, the first thing my parents did was make sure that I was still able to play piano. I realized that my music was the only thing that they liked about me, and I quit. They pretty much disowned me, which I was fine with. I left."

"But you were barely a teenager, how did you-"

"I managed. I stayed with my grandma for a couple years until she passed away. By that time I was old enough to get a job and live on my own, so when I had some money I jumped on a train and went… well, everywhere. I eventually found New York, and I've been here ever since. I guess I'm kind of fond of it."

"So they didn't care enough to try and find you?"

"The family name was more important to them than their own son, so I'm gonna say yeah. When I said I didn't want to play music anymore, they got so offended it was like I had just admitted to murdering someone. I tried to talk to them, but my family is only about two things: music and money. And when you're an Evans, you have either both or nothing. My brother is the perfect example. He's pretty and talented and well-liked and so much better than me. I figured they were better off without a little pest standing in his shadow."

"I'm sure your parents didn't think that."

"Yeah, they did. And it's not just that part that I disliked," said Soul. "It was the way they were parents. I _hated _the way they talked to me. They treated me like an object. A trophy. Something to be proud of when you have people around, but once they leave you can just pretend that it's not there."

"What about your brother?"

"They loved him. He was a musical genius. Played violin. Every gathering, every dinner party we had, he performed at. I was either the opening act or just the troublemaker that everyone scolded. Always second best. Never needed."

After a pause, "I'm glad you left."

"Why?"

"Because otherwise I wouldn't have met you."

"It's not a big deal. Don't get all emotional and stuff over it." He shifted in his spot by the doorframe. "But I'm glad too."


	14. 50 Shades Of Beige

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, Pokemon, or Nintendo.

P.S. I swear to God, Penny is the only OC that will show up in this story, ever. I couldn't think of an already existing character who would fit in this role, and needed to come up with something.

* * *

"Soul, where are you?" Maka yelled, throwing a towel down on the counter. "It's your turn to do dishes!"

After getting no response, she huffily stalked down the hallway. "Soul!"

The bathroom was locked. She rapped on the door. "Hey, you-" she stopped, hearing a series of strange noises.

What was he doing in there? It almost sounded like…

Oh. _Oh. _

Soft moans could be heard from inside the room.

Maka, red as a tomato, stared at the door with a weird mixed feeling of shock and… was that, curiosity? No. Bad Maka. Stop listening.

Why couldn't she stop listening?

Soul was grunting now, and the moans were loud and almost frustrated-sounding. She heard him shout, "OH! OH MY GOD! FUCK!"

He swung open the door, holding a Nintendo DS in his hand. He was also fully clothed, much to Maka's confusion.

"What." He frowned.

"What?! Huh?! I, um, wasn't… I just… you have to go do the dishes!"

Soul scrutinized her blushing face. "Were you standing outside of the door?"

"What, no."

"You're a little pervert, aren't you? I bet you thought I was-"

"No way! Are you crazy? I would never-"

He grinned. "I was playing Pokemon. But sadly, I lost a battle."

"Of course you were," she babbled, still not looking him in the eye. _When the fuck had he gotten a DS anyway? And why was he playing in the bathroom of all places? _Now she was sure he was doing all this to mess with her. Asshole.

Soul lifted an eyebrow. "I'll go do the dishes now."

"Sure," she blurted. "Cool. Okay."

* * *

"There's a showing at this art gallery downtown," Soul said from the couch.

"Yeah?"  
"Tonight at seven. It's supposed to be pretty cool."

"_You_ think art is cool?"

"Hey, I'm not a complete idiot. I can appreciate art."

"If you insist..."

* * *

Soul wore a suit.

_A suit._

The same guy who spent his days lounging in boxers and "recycled" t-shirts that he wore for four days straight, Mister "_but Maka, the nacho cheese stains aren't even that noticeable!_"

He looked pretty darn sharp in the suit, too. Pinstriped and beautifully tailored and very, _very _flattering, she noted to herself as her eyes combed over his broad shoulders and red tie that matched his eyes.

"I'm sorry, did I miss something? Is this a rich person gallery?"

"What? No. I just, uh, thought it'd be nice to dress up."

"Well, now I feel dumb." She changed into a dress. When she came back, Soul was anxiously checking the time on his phone and teetering back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Everything okay?"

He looked at her like he hadn't even noticed she was standing there. "Huh? Yeah."

* * *

Soul's odd behavior didn't stop even when they got to the gallery. Maka, thinking that he might just need some time alone, accepted a glass of red wine and some prosciutto-wrapped melon balls from a server's tray and walked around to look at the paintings.

After contemplating each of the art pieces (and drinking more than a little bit of wine), Maka grew tired of listening to snooty perfumed women gossip and sniff at things like paintbrushes and shades of beige and yada yada. She began looking for Soul and found him across the room.

"It's getting late. Do you think we should be heading back soon?"

He turned to her, revealing a lovely girl on his arm.

"Oh. _Oh. _Sorry. I was just… I thought you were someone else," Maka recovered, getting Soul's frenzied telepathic message of _GOAWAYGOAWAYGOAWAY. _

The girl looked puzzled. She really was lovely, with long golden hair and big brown eyes. She reminded Maka a little of the angel that her mother and father would always put on top of their Christmas tree.

Soul shot daggers from his eyes. _I SWEAR TO GOD MAKA IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW..._

"I'm gonna go," she said awkwardly, stumbling over her own words (and also the floor) as she backed out of the room. Maybe the wine wasn't such a good idea.

* * *

"She's very pretty," Maka said over a late dinner. They had taken separate cabs. Obviously. He was busy with that girl, whose name turned out to be Penny, as Maka had discovered later. Maka realized only now the reason why he wanted to go to the art gallery was because of her. Well, how was she supposed to know?

The ride home was long and boring, and then she had to make something to eat as it was already past eight, so she wasn't in the best mood.

"Yeah."

"Where'd you two meet?"

He shrugged. "Library."

"Since when you go to the library?"

"I was just picking up some music and stuff. Why do you care, anyway? You sound like an overbearing mother."

"I don't. I'm just curious about my roommate's new lady friend."

"_Lady friend_?" Soul wheezed with laughter and had to put his fork down.

"It's not that funny."

"Yes," he choked out. "It is."

"Well, _girlfriend _then?"

"Uh, _yeah_."

"Fine! Girlfriend! She's your girlfriend! Stop laughing at me, you jerk." She threw down her napkin and got up from her seat.

"Jesus. What's your problem?"

"Nothing," Maka snapped.

"Are you just pissy because I have someone and you don't? We've been over this! If you want a boyfriend, you have to go out and find one. It's not like I can do it for you."

"Shut up, idiot. It's not about that, okay?"

"_Idiot_? Really? No," Soul said, getting out of his chair as well. "You've been acting like this since I got home. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Maka repeated through gritted teeth.

"Don't give me that crap! I know when you're lying."

"Just leave me alone. Go call Penny or something."

"I knew this was about Penny." He ran a hand through his hair. "God, what is wrong with you? Are you that against me being happy?"

"I never said that."

"But you were thinking it, weren't you? Fuck, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

Maka flinched. "_Jealous_?"

"Yeah, _jealous._" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Are you kidding me? And wipe that smug smirk off of your face or I'll smack it off," she said, now properly angry.

"Why else would you be acting like this? Are you PMSing or something?"

Maka's hand flew through the air and hit his face in .2 seconds. He held his stinging cheek, shocked.

"Misogynistic pig. And no, I am not PMSing! Why is it that men always think that?"

"Because it's usually true! …Hey, get your hand away… Ouch! Fuck! Okay! I'm sorry! You didn't have to hit me!"

"I think I did," she said haughtily, walking into her room and closing the door without another word.

"Girls," he muttered.


	15. Misleading Angels

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, Marlboro cigarettes, or _National Treasure. _

* * *

During the next few weeks, Soul was replaced with a clone. Looked exactly like him, but wasn't him at all. Soul Number Two was the poster child for puppy love. Penny came over all the time now, the apartment was filled with weird-sounding "underground" music, and the smell of exotic spices from the couple's attempts at cooking up intricate dishes from faraway lands.

It was annoying to say the least, but Soul seemed happy.

Soul had realized he couldn't keep Maka from coming home, so he eventually had to confess to Penny their living situation. She was completely fine with it, to Soul's delight and Maka's disgust.

However, as much as Maka hated the candlelight dinners and cuddle fests and loud banging (literally) noises, she kept her mouth shut. Besides, she came up with ways to neutralize their activities. Romantic dinner and a movie? She had a bag of Doritos and enough action flicks to keep her awake for nights on end. Spooning on the couch? Not a problem. She locked herself in her room and buried her nose in a novel about a serial killer. Moans coming from next door? Earplugs to the rescue.

Unfortunately Soul was too busy planning picnics and ordering flowers to notice that he had been neglecting his duties as a roomie. Maka did his chores for him and reminded him of the rent, but otherwise stayed out of his way. It was a lonely time.

Of course, she always had her friends at work. Mr. Master wasn't mean at all, despite his surly demeanor. He was actually very kind toward this employees. And the other girls, Kim and Jackie, were friendly enough to talk to. Another person Maka immediately clicked with was a tall, willowy girl named Tsubaki. She was from Japan, found a way to make everyone feel good about themselves, and was a ray of sunshine compared to the rest of Maka's life at the moment. They spent a lot of lunch breaks getting to know each other, and before she knew it, Maka had another friend. One that didn't ignore her, unlike a certain red-eyed creep that she knew.

Soul didn't really talk to her anymore. He was either out with his girlfriend, talking on the phone with his girlfriend, texting his girlfriend, or preparing something for a date with his girlfriend. It was like some weird force was making him turn into the perfect boyfriend.

_Perfect boyfriends don't ignore their best friends, _Maka thought bitterly. But she felt guilty. He was happy for once, and she was being a total downer. She vowed to herself to be more supportive.

When Penny and Soul bounced through the door, she put on a dazzling smile. "How was your date?"

"Great!" Penny clutched his arm, showcasing her very straight teeth. "Soul took me to the symphony. It was beautiful."

Maka braced herself for the "no, YOU'RE beautiful", but it didn't come. She chided herself for feeling thankful. "I thought classical wasn't your thing?"

"It's his favorite." Penny gave a small frown. A tiny wrinkle appeared on her forehead.

"Of course. I must have gotten him mixed up with someone else."

"We were going to make roasted acorn squash for dinner. Would you like to join us, Maka?"

She was probably just being polite. "Oh, no thank you. I already ate."

"Well, we can make extra if you want some later!"

"That's a really nice offer, but I think you two should get cooking. If you know what I mean!" She let out a short laugh.

Penny stared at her blankly. Soul bit the inside of his cheek, probably cursing his halfwit roommate for opening her mouth.

"Haaa. I was going to go do something. See you guys later." In her scramble to find something to say, she had slipped in a lie. She wasn't going to do something, she was going to stay in her room all night. Well, now she had to go somewhere. Maybe she could hang out at a coffee shop until closing hours.

* * *

She did. Bringing a book helped beat the boredom a little, but the barista kept giving her strange looks. By the end of the night, she had consumed probably about six lattes. She could _feel _noises. The walls seemed to be shaking. Her hand was too, when she looked down. It was time to go.

Nobody greeted her at the door. Penny and Soul were dozing off in front of the TV. Their limbs were tangled together, but Soul still had enough room to lean forward and kiss her on the forehead. A zap of white-hot pain coursed through Maka, but she walked past quietly so she wouldn't disturb them and fell face first onto her bed. She thought about screaming into a pillow, but it would most likely send the couple running into her room asking what was wrong. She could just say she saw a spider. That would satisfy them.

She was overthinking this.

Overthinking was so easy. Just let your mind run wild and everything just goes crazy. It's nearly impossible to stop, too. And with the amount of caffeine in her bloodstream, that could lead to catastrophic results.

One thing that depressed Maka the most was Christmas. It was just three days away, and with the way things were going, Soul would probably go somewhere with Penny and forget all about his _best friend_ who was planning a special evening for them with food and presents and for fuck's sake, they forgot to get a tree! This was a complete disaster. She was going to be alone again. Just like always. She wanted to cry. Then she wanted to slap herself. Then she wanted to slap Soul.

She just needed to let him be happy. There was no need to drag him down with her, even if he _had _promised her eggnog and gingerbread and hot buttered rum. And sledding. And a personalized mix CD of his favorite Christmas songs, since he was picky about that sort of thing. (He was just a music snob in general, but he'd deny it if you asked.) Maka's hope fizzled out completely. Instead of smelling like cinnamon and cloves and apples and pine, the apartment smelled like Soul's girlfriend's perfume and burnt food from when they had tried to make vegan mushroom burgers. It didn't feel like Christmas, and she doubted it ever would if Penny was still there. Maka swallowed a lump in her throat when she thought about the possibility of her staying there forever. Soul would invite her to live with them, Penny would replace her permanently, and Maka would either have to go back to Nevada, back to her daft, doting, womanizing father, _or _she could try to find another place. But that wasn't really an option considering that it _was _her dad who got her this apartment and she had a roommate to help her with literally everything.

She didn't belong anywhere anymore.

* * *

Penny was gone in the morning. So was Soul. Another breakfast spent alone wasn't something Maka was looking forward to, but she made herself a bowl of cereal while she checked the news quickly. It was supposed to be snowy today. No, wait. Snowy with a chance of rain. The weatherman switched back and forth between the two predictions a couple times before deciding on partly snowy and slushy. A news update flashed on the bottom of the screen: "A Large Flock Of Chickens Have Fled The Coop And Gone To Play In Traffic." Hm. Good to know about some real issues in the world.

* * *

The walk home was cold. Like, really cold. Looks like the weatherman had been right for once.

Soul hadn't bothered to send a text like he normally did after work. He seemed to be forgetting about that lately.

"One measly little text. One. Just to tell me if he's home safely. Or if he needs me to pick up things for dinner. Or if he's going over to Penny's. Damn it, Evans. You are such a dolt sometimes."

A couple hiding under a polka dot umbrella spoke softly to each other, which in turn made Maka think of Soul and Penny, which in turn made her want to puke into a nearby rose bush. She couldn't help it. She had had it up to here with those two. If she had to endure one more night of heavy breathing or evening with Frank Sinatra filling the apartment, she was going to throw herself into the nearest bar and drink herself silly. Alcohol was never the answer, and the feeling of it coming up hurt more than it did going down, but she could definitely find enough courage to gulp enough whiskey to burn all the gross feelings of jealousy away. Wait, did she really just admit that she was jealous? This whole thing was Soul's fault. If he hadn't set up the date at the art gallery, and if he hadn't brought his perfect, darling, doll-like girlfriend home every night, maybe she would have felt differently. But she was exhausted of trying to keep her cool, and maybe it was time to talk to him about it. Communication was key, right?

* * *

When she got home, she found him sitting on the fire escape.

"Hey," Maka said, climbing out onto the ledge.

He didn't seem to mind the snow. Or maybe he was just trying to be dramatic. That seemed more likely. She was also very surprised to see that Soul was smoking. She was almost angry at him for doing something so stupid, but stopped herself. "You all right?" She regretted saying it as soon as the words left her lips. Of course he wasn't all right.

"We broke up," he said in a biting voice.

"Oh."

"Aren't you gonna ask why?"

"I don't want to intrude on your privacy."

"That's a first."

"If you're not going to tell me, then why did you-"

"She was seeing someone else."

"How did you find out?"

"She said to come to her place at five. When I got there, apparently she had forgotten about our date because I found her in the middle of the room, naked, with some other guy."

Maka didn't say anything for a couple seconds.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not." He took a drag.

"I'm just trying to be a supportive friend," she said indignantly.

"Well, you're terrible at it." He tried to sound mean, but it wasn't working. All Maka heard was hurt, spat out like bullets between puffs of fat gray smoke.

"I know you're angry," Maka said gently. "But you don't have to take it out on me. It's okay to be sad. Or frustrated. Or whatever it is that you're feeling. I'm here to help you through it, all right?"

Soul's shoulders un-hunched.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Can I say something?"

He shrugged.

"You guys seemed great together, but I can't help but wonder… were you really happy?"

"What?"

"It's just that, even though you were always smiling and holding hands, there was something kind of distant about you. I don't know. Maybe I was just imagining it."

"You're right," he said after a while. "I should have been happy, but I wasn't. And I did everything to please _her_. She likes music that I haven't even heard of. I didn't like it, but I listened to it anyway. And she was always buying ingredients to make things like gazpacho and challah bread. What the hell is that? If I wanted cooking lessons I would've asked for them." He sighed and smashed the remaining half of his cigarette on the metal grate. His face was looking a little green, and Maka wondered if it was his first time smoking, because he didn't seem to be handling it very well. What an idiot. He probably went out and bought a pack of Marlboros just so he could look like a character out of some depressing indie film.

"I guess I was just trying to be someone different. Someone who looks at pictures of circles and calls it art. Someone who listens to Swedish folk music and claims that video games rot your brain. I can't be that guy for her. I'm never going to be that guy."

"You shouldn't have to pretend to be someone you're not," Maka said. "If she's really worth it, she'll like you for you. Not for what kind of bread you eat."

Soul laughed, but it sounded pained. "And you know what else? When I found her, the explanation she gave me was that she 'wanted it to be casual'. She wanted us to have an 'open relationship'. But the thing is, she wasn't polyamorous, she just wanted to be able to fuck other guys without feeling guilty about it. What we had meant nothing to her anyway, she just wanted something to play with."

Maka threw her arms around him and for once, he didn't recoil. "She's blind as a bat, Soul. She has to be. You're a national treasure. Without the Nicolas Cage. You're a...a...golden diamond. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You'll find someone else. I promise. I'll even help you look."

"What the hell is a golden diamond?" His chuckles rumbled against her shoulder. "And thanks, but I think I'll take a break from relationships for a while."


	16. The Red String Of Fate

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

It seemed as though Soul had woken up a new person. The first thing he did in the morning was throw away his pack of cigarettes. When Maka asked what he was doing, he just replied with, "Lung cancer isn't cool." He went to work on time, bought groceries, washed the dishes, did laundry, and all without a single word from her.

"Are you feeling okay? You did chores without me asking you to."

"Yeah! I feel great, actually. Better than ever. I think this is going to be a really good day, you know?"

"Uh."

"Is there anything else you wanted me to do?"

"No, I think you did it all already."

His wild grin didn't waver. "All right. Well, I'm going to go. See you later!"

"Where are you going?"

"I picked up an extra shift at work. Later hours get better pay, and it's not like I have anything else to do." He picked up his keys from the counter and waved, making them jingle.

"Oh. Don't stay too late though, okay?"

"I'll be back before you know it."

* * *

After guiltily devouring half of the pie that Soul had made (yet another thing he had volunteered to do), Maka laid down on the couch and took out a book. Now that there was no obnoxious loudmouth around to disrupt her, maybe she could get in some reading.

She got through about ten pages before slamming it down on the coffee table.

It was too quiet. Without Soul's teasing remarks, the apartment seemed empty and kind of… dare she say it? Lonely.

Okay, granted, she'd been lonely for weeks. It just seemed more drastic now that he was available. Now _that_ sounded bad. Soul needed time to get over Penny and he probably wanted some well-earned alone time, but it was kind of infuriating to have him be so close but yet still so far away. He was moping in his own way, even if it didn't seem like it. His Little Miss Sunshine attitude was just for show, but unless he verbally said that he needed to talk or vent or something, she needed to let him cope on his own.

They usually spent the hours after dinner talking or watching TV or playing video games or board games or something. Some nights they walked around the neighborhood or down to the mini-mart to buy mouth-staining cherry slushies or hot chocolate that was so sweet it made your teeth hurt or extra large bags of nacho cheese-flavored corn chips. Whenever someone would see them walking together, they would always assume they were, you know, _together, _and at first Soul and Maka yelled a hasty "NO" or even a "OH GOD NO", but after this happened over and over and over again, it seemed like too much trouble to correct them, so they just let them think whatever. They didn't think much of strangers' comments, but one time a little girl went up to them and changed that.

It was right after they exited the convenience store. Their hands were full of donut holes and sour gummy worms when she popped up out of nowhere and asked if they were boyfriend and girlfriend. Maka nearly dropped her snacks, but Soul just laughed and crouched down to her height. "_No, she's just a good friend of mine." _ Maka watched as he pulled a handful of worms from the bag and handed them to her, then tapped her nose lightly, making her giggle. The girl tilted her head and looked at them in what seemed like pity. "_You look like you would be a good boyfriend and girlfriend. You should get married._"

* * *

Now as Maka sat curled up with a stomach ache from too much pie and a dog-eared book, she realized how much she would rather be goofing around town with Soul.

Man, she wished he would come home soon. Why did he take that other shift, anyway? They had enough money. Well, enough to live off of. It would be nice to have a little extra cash around, she would admit that, but it wasn't completely necessary. He was going to work himself sick, which was not something she wanted to have on her hands. Not to mention that Christmas was literally right around the corner. With Soul back to normal, she assumed that their plans were back on, but now she wasn't so sure. What was he doing?

* * *

Soul jumped about ten feet in the air when he walked through the door. A very cranky Maka had waited up for him, and the second she heard the doorknob turn, she leaped up from her spot on the couch. "Soul!"

"Mm?" He looked tired.

"Thank God you're home. I was bored out of my mind."

"That's nice." He gave a yawn.

"Get a hold of yourself! Do you know what time it is, mister?"

"What time is it, Maka?" he asked, playing along.

"It's eleven!" she said almost hysterically. "You wasted an entire evening just so you could pour vodka cranberries for snooty middle-aged women wearing dead foxes around their necks who're only out to find some poor, young, drunk guy and take them home and-and take advantage of them!"

Soul squinted at her. "Have you been drinking?"

"No, but I ate half of that pie you made."

"That's okay. I was going to share it with you when I got home anyway." He took a seat and threw his keys on the table.

"How was work?" Maka slid the dessert over to him.

"Fine." Soul took a bite and sighed. "God. This is good."

"I still don't know why you're working overtime." She swiped a finger of filling and stuck it in her mouth.

"Stop harassing my pie," he scolded, smacking her hand away. "Jeez. I don't know. I just think I should focus on work. Instead of like, girls and relationships and stuff. I need to stop messing around."

"Having a relationship is messing around?"

"Well." He paused to take another bite. "Yeah. I mean, it's not likely that I'm gonna want to have a serious relationship with someone. And casual things are just a waste of time."

"What if you find the love of your life? Wouldn't you want to marry them?"

"If I want to get married, I'll be sure to tell you. Because that'll never happen." He chuckled and flipped on the TV. Maka turned it back off and frowned. "If you're going to be working late every night, you need to get some sleep. No TV."

Soul licked the plate clean with his tongue, making loud, gross, exaggerated smacking sounds. "Only if I get to sleep with you."

* * *

So he did.

In the most innocent sense of the word.

Ever since his heater broke, Soul had found himself laying on the other side of Maka in the mornings. He never tried to _do _anything, and she never protested against it, so it turned into a habit that they both just kind of accepted.

Truth be told, the heater had been fixed long ago. But they'd grown accustomed to sleeping side by side and snuggling when it got cold and sharing pillows and waking up staring at each other in the early morning sunlight. (It brought out the golden strands in Maka's hair and Soul looked really peaceful with those pale lashes fluttering against his eyelids, even when he rolled and jostled her in his sleep.)  
However, it didn't change anything. They were still just friends. Friends can sleep in the same bed. There was no shame in that.

They stopped sleeping together after Soul met Penny, for obvious reasons. He slept in his old room with her, or went over to her place. Maka stayed behind, and hated every second of it.

But now that everything was back to normal, it seemed almost strange to be doing that again. Maka had to remind herself that it was something that they always did. Soul slipped right back into the routine, fluffing up their pillows and diving right in. Maka tucked herself in uncertainly, then felt the familiar touch of Soul's leg against hers and sighed contentedly. He wiggled in closer. "Night."

They stayed like that for a while. He was past the yawning stage and was now completely quiet. She was still trying to get used to his presence again.

"You really don't want to get married?" Maka asked, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't unconscious yet, he kept moving around trying to get comfortable.

"I don't know," answered a half-asleep Soul. When she didn't reply, he peeked at her. "That's a weird question."

"No, it's not."

"So I'm assuming you do want to? Get married, that is?"

"Yeah. When I find the right person."

"I thought you'd be against marriage and stuff. Because of your dad and all. Don't you hate him? He kind of ruined your chances of ever seeing your mom again."

"I don't hate him. I just think he's an idiot. My mom was smart to leave him. And besides, what are the odds of me finding someone like my dad? When I get married, I'll make sure that he's the one."

"What kind of guy is the one?"

"Someone who I can trust. And feel at home with. I don't know if I believe in soulmates, but..." She turned to him. "Is that crazy? I don't know. I've never been very good with love."

"It's not crazy. I think soulmates could definitely exist. Maybe only for some people, but they're still there. Have you ever heard of the red string of fate?"

"No."

Soul turned to face her too. "Well, there's this old myth. When two people are destined to be lovers, they're connected by a red thread. And wherever they go, no matter how far away, they'll always have it. Even if the string gets tangled, or stretched, it won't ever break. And when they find each other, they'll know they were meant to be."

"Do you really believe that?"

"It's just a story, Maka."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Not sure. Some people are just really compatible."

"I don't think it matters. Either way, you're with someone who loves you. Anyone who takes that for granted doesn't deserve it." Soul was surprised by the amount of bitterness in her voice.

"You'll find them. There's gotta be a soulmate out there for you somewhere."

He didn't get an answer. She had fallen asleep.


	17. Baby, It's Cold Outside

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, or Frosty the Snowman.

Big shout out to Professor Maka, who's been following this silly thing since it started and is giving me a lot of helpful pointers, especially for the last chapter! Thank you! You rock!

* * *

Christmas was back on.

Soul made enough gingerbread for them to be munching on for weeks, Maka found some tinsel and wrapped it around his neck like a (very itchy) boa while he was baking, and they watched Rudolph and Frosty and all of the other reindeer.

After dinner, it was time for presents.

Maka stood on her tiptoes, covering Soul's eyes with her hands.

"Can I open my eyes now?"

"Wait… no peeking... Okay, you can look."

He blinked. "Oh, wow."

It was a keyboard. Glossy black with pearl white keys, and it was beautiful.

"I know it's not a real piano, but I didn't think it would fit in the apartment… And I couldn't afford it. I thought you could start playing again. I mean, if you're okay with that. I'd really like to hear you." Maka fiddled with the ends of her hair.

"Are you kidding?" He grinned from ear to ear and went over to inspect it more closely. "Sure I will."

She brightened. "You really like it?"

"Of course I like it!" He hugged her. "Where did you even- how did you-?"

"I just kept it in the closet. You never hang up your clothes, so I wasn't expecting you to go in there."

Soul laughed. "You got me. Now it's your turn. Hold out your hands."

"If it's a slug, you better start praying."

"It's not a slug." He grunted and put the thing in her reach. "It's heavy. Be careful."

"What is it?'

"Guess."

Maka felt around. It was cold metal, with smooth edges and lots of little buttons. She pressed one and heard a small click, then gasped. "Soul, is this what I think it is?"

"It's not a time machine."

Maka looked down. "It's a typewriter!"

Soul rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Is it, you know…okay? I think we had the same idea for both of our gifts. Writing might be good for you, and this thing is pretty cool. I found this one at some antique place and had to fix it up a little. It should be working now, it's just kind of rusty, and..."

"It's perfect. Thank you." She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, and he blinked, startled, like a deer in headlights.

"It's just a kiss on the cheek," Maka said. "It's not like there was mistletoe above us or anything."

There was an awkward pause.

"I'm gonna get some more eggnog." Soul lumbered off to the kitchen.

When he came back, Maka was zipping up her coat. "What are you doing?"

"Going out. Come on!"

"Where are we going?"

"Come on!" she repeated, pulling his sleeve.

* * *

They walked all over the city. Soul kept scolding her that they would get lost, but she just hummed Christmas carols under her breath and gave him an encouraging smile. He complained that his hands were cold and she blew on them, making him flick her in the head.

Suddenly Maka sprinted across the road, making a car screech in protest.

"Maka!" Soul went after her.

She stopped in front of a parking lot, boots crunching in the white powder.

"You can't just run into the street like that," Soul said exasperatedly. "_What are you, four_?"

She didn't notice his joke, or just didn't care enough to acknowledge it. "Look," she breathed.

"What?" He turned his head. The empty lot was gleaming with fresh, untouched snow.

She looked at him. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Um…"

Without getting an answer in return, she ran out into the open space and spun around in a sort of dance. She whooped loudly, arms outstretched, and laughed at Soul's dumbfounded expression. "What are you waiting for?"

He paused, staring at the girl with fascination. "Nothing," he said, letting out a yell as he picked up a handful of snow and threw it at her.

Maka dodged the snowball and stuck out her tongue. "It'll take a lot more than that to defeat the snow queen!"

"The snow queen?" Soul snickered. "You really are childish. What should we do next, go for a ride on your pet unicorn?" His sassy remark was quickly fouled by a snowball in his face.

"You won't be making fun of me once I win," she said.

"You mean once _I _win," he corrected as a flurry of white exploded against her coat.

"You're _so _on."

Forty two snowballs later, the two collapsed on the ground in a fit of giggles.

"I think you won," Maka panted.

"_Good_. Because I'm exhausted."

Maka wiggled her arms and legs.

"What are you doing now?"

"Makin' a snow angel. Duh."

"Is this right?" Soul tried to copy her movement, but looked more like a flailing fish trying to escape a net.

"No! Have you ever made a snow angel in your life?" Maka giggled. He was just quiet, because _no, he hadn't_ made a snow angel, not ever, and she looked at him with a soft expression. "Here, like this."

After the angels were finished, they stared up at the sky. It was starting to snow again. Tiny flakes drifted down, one landing on the tip of Maka's tongue.

There was snow melting through Soul's jacket and he was pretty sure that his toes were getting frostbite, but it really didn't matter because his friend's perky little nose was pink from the cold and snowflakes kept getting caught in her eyelashes. He wanted to brush the lacey white specks off of her but they melted before he could touch them.

A streetlamp buzzed quietly and somewhat annoyingly above them, casting an orangey-yellow color on everything the light touched.

"Hey, how did you get the money for that typewriter? It was more than either of us could afford."

"You know those nights I've been working late? It was towards your Christmas present fund."

"What are you trying to do, upstage me?" She hit him. "You're making me feel awful. You shouldn't have done that."

"I wanted to."

"Snowman."

"Sorry?"

"Let's make a snowman."

Soul made the head and Maka made the middle, but they had to work together to roll up the bottom. They used small stones and twigs to decorate their masterpiece. Soul wrapped his scarf around it.

"His name is Ferdinand Elliot Scott the Third," Maka said.

"I'm cold."

"Me too." Maka surveyed the trampled ground approvingly and looked up at the man next to her. "I don't feel like walking."

"Can we get a cab at this hour?"

"Nope."

"Then… it sucks for you."

* * *

After a few minutes of whining, Soul sighed and heaved Maka onto his back, where she sat happily until his arms got so tired they started to shake.

"Maka."

"Mm." She was falling asleep, fast. He debated flicking her again, but nudged her gently instead.

"Wake up. I have a job for you."

"You do?" She rubbed her eyes.

Soul set her down. "Yes. See that garbage bin over there?"

"Uh huh."

"I'm going to get something out of it, but I need you to stand watch. Can you do that?"

Maka giggled. "Yeah."

"Okay. Don't let me down. If I get arrested, you're coming with me." He climbed on the side of the dumpster and started pulling on what looked like… a tree?

"Cops," Maka screamed.

"Shit." Soul crouched down. Upon hearing her bubbly Old Saint Nick-ish laughter, he got up and looked at her in disbelief. "Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me. That isn't funny!"

"Come get me when you're not too busy sticking your butt in my face."

"I am not," he grunted, pulling on the object more. His rump was indeed pointing in her direction. He got it out and hoisted it over his shoulder, ordering her to hold up the other end. They walked like this all the way back home.

"Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"Did we just steal a Christmas tree?"

"Yeah."


	18. Fever Dreams

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

And with this chapter, we say adieu to the T rating.

* * *

Maka opened the door and attempted to hang up her jacket on the hook on the wall but couldn't reach it.

Soul walked over and helped her.

"Thanks," she said, turning around and gasping softly. His face was centimeters from hers. Red stared into green and he could feel his heart starting to pound. He knew their promise, he knew he couldn't, no, _wouldn't, _do anything to make Maka uncomfortable, but for some reason, all of that flew out of his mind and all he could think about was how damn cute she looked when her sweater lifted up ever so slightly to show off her pale stomach.

He needed to kiss her. He itched to touch any part of her, her slim waist, those delicate-looking but surprisingly strong wrists, the nape of her neck, the top of her thighs. His breathing was coming out labored now, and his blood felt hot rushing around inside of him.

"Soul, are you okay?" Maka put a hand on his arm. He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. She felt his forehead, sending more shivers up his spine. "You're burning up! Come on, I'll get you into bed."

_What did she just say? _

"I can do it myself," Soul said, removing her hand and backing up.

"Soul, watch out for the-"

"I got it," he said. "I'm a big boy." Little did he know, the coffee table was right behind him and he tripped, hitting his head on the corner.

"Are you okay?" Maka rushed over and half-lifted him up, letting his left arm rest on her shoulder.

Soul escaped from her grasp, blushing furiously. "I think so. My head kinda hurts, but..."

Maka shoved him into his bed and took his temperature with a thermometer. Seeing the high number, she shook the stick in his face teasingly. "You're a big boy, huh?"

Soul blushed more, if that was even possible. _Is she making these innuendos on purpose? I know I was the one who said it first, but now that's it's coming out her mouth it just sounds… ugh… _

"I'll get you some soup. That'll make you feel better. And do you want some tea?"

"No, thanks," Soul said. "I'm not sick, honest! It's just..." _It's just what? It's just that I get tongue-tied around you? That I can't even control my own actions because I'm too busy watching yours? That every time you touch me, my complexion turns the color of a tomato and I literally cannot breathe? _

"Try to get some sleep, then. I'll be back soon. Call me if you need anything."

Positive that his fever was from his, er, sexual arousal, and not from sickness, he grabbed the thermometer and tried again. Pulling it out of his mouth, he glared at the little numbers. _Damn. Guess I really am sick._

Suddenly feeling very feverish, Soul laid his head back on the pillow. He fought to stay conscious, but sleep overpowered him.

* * *

When he woke up, he was no longer in his bedroom, but in a bathroom instead. The air was heavy with steam from the shower that was running. It looked like there was a figure in the shower. Whoever they were, Soul felt really weird being in here with them. How did he even get in here? He went for the door, but it was locked.

_What the hell?_ He jiggled the knob, but it stayed shut.

The shower turned off, and Soul had a mini heart attack, pacing back and forth but unable to hide anywhere as it _was _a bathroom, and a pretty small one at that. The figure stepped out and looked at him.

It was Maka.

And she was completely naked.

Mouth dry as sand, Soul struggled to swallow as his eyes raked over her. He tried to stop himself, but his penis had other thoughts.

Maka walked up to him. Way too close to him. Her chest was almost pressed up next to his. "Soul," she said dreamily.

_This wasn't Maka. Since when was she okay with him seeing her naked?_

Soul was now cornered by the not-Maka. He was sweating a lot, and the humid bathroom air wasn't helping at all. The pressure in his crotch was getting really uncomfortable."Heeeeey, Maka, what's up? Heh."

She blinked up at him through long eyelashes, a sultry look on her face. "Soul," she breathed, sliding her hand across his arm.

"That's my name," Soul said, laughing nervously. "It's kind of a weird name, huh? _Soul_. _Sooouuuuuul_. You think it's pretty strange, right? I mean, it's a weird name! Ha." He was babbling now, saying anything and everything to keep himself from looking at her.

Not-Maka lifted her head up and kissed him.

Soul made a "mmfhhrmm" sound and tried to detach his lips from the girl's.

She kissed him deeper, pressing her entire body against his so that he could feel _everything_. He broke free from her embrace, but now she was busy working on kissing his neck.

_Fuck. _He groaned lightly. Neck kisses were his weak spot.

His knees almost buckled underneath him when Not-Maka bit his sensitive skin. She sucked and nibbled her way all around his collarbone, making him grab the bathroom counter for support.

"Let's, um, do something else," he suggested, voice cracking a little. "Do you like games? We could play hide-and-seek. You go hide, and um, I'll come find you."

Not-Maka trapped his mouth in another searing kiss and pulled off his shirt. She was about to fling off his jeans as well, but he grabbed her hands. "Whoa! Let's not get carried away."

She leaned up and whispered in his ear, sending pleasant vibrations down his back. "Soul."

It was only one word, but it had desperate need behind it. She wanted him. She wanted him _right now. _And it was enough to make Soul come crashing down. He let go of her hands, which skillfully undid his pants.

_Oh my God, how is this even happening?! This isn't Maka… but… oh my God. What the hell is going on?_

The next kiss was hot and wet and it made Soul's inner animal make an appearance. He shoved her against the wall as she wound her fingers in his hair. A shampoo bottle fell to the ground with a crash. Not-Maka moaned into his chest.

* * *

A couple minutes passed, and you could guess what happened.

The two were covered in a layer of sweat, adding to the stuffiness of the room. It was stifling, but Soul didn't care. He was too busy pleasing Not-Maka.

She writhed and wriggled under his touch. Her only words were "Soul, Soul, Soul…" She repeated them over again, faster and faster each time until it was just a bunch of incoherent words jumbled into whimpers and pleads.

This girl, or rather an apparition of a girl, was probably demon spawn, but maybe, Soul thought, gritting his teeth, this would help him in some way. He was still figuring out his feelings for her, the real Maka, and this could show him what he really felt about her. Sure, he had always considered her attractive, but now that she wanted to have sex with him… he didn't know what to think at all. His lust was all he could think about, and how good it felt making her scream and moan, just touching her. It took control of his body, and with one final thrust, Not-Maka cried out in a high-pitched squeal and Soul finished with her.

Naked and dizzy from the heat and exertion, he lay panting on the floor of the bathroom. Not-Maka was… gone? She had disappeared to God knows where, but for some reason he could still hear her voice.

_Soul..._

_Soul._

_Soul!_

* * *

His eyes snapped open.

Maka was standing above him with a bowl. She was wearing clothes, too. She was real.

"You're all wet. Did you dump a bucket of water on yourself or something?"

"Uh, huh? Yeah. What." His face felt like an inferno. Red and sweaty was not a good combo_. _

"I got your food. Sorry it took so long. They were surprisingly busy. I guess people really want their soup, even when there's a snowstorm outside."

Soul realized he was still a little excited _down there,_ and shifted awkwardly underneath the blankets.

"Open up," Maka said, pointing a spoon at his mouth.

"You don't have to feed me, you know."

"Sorry. Oh, and I also got you some fever pills and pain medicine if you need it. I'll leave them on the table, okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you." As she walked away, he mentally punched himself in the face for staring at her. Whenever he saw her now, he was going to think of what she looked like naked.

Speaking of which, what was that dream about? Where did that even come from? Soul didn't have sex dreams often, and when he did they were usually about some random girl who he'd never even seen before. But this one, oh, this one was definitely Maka. But why? He thought about it while he finished his soup, but nothing came to him. Until he remembered his previous reflections in the bathroom.

_He was still figuring out his feelings for Maka._

As in, he might possibly even have kind of a thing for her?

_Nah_, he thought, finishing his soup. _That's a problem for another day_.


	19. Every Kiss Begins With The Ring

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, Hallmark, _Poltergeist, The Evil Dead, _or _The Ring. _

* * *

"We can go to that horror movie marathon at the theater," Maka said as the two friends sat on the couch, sharing a bag of french fries. Soul picked up cheeseburgers after work, a grateful Maka accepted the food, and now they were here, watching one of those cheesy Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel.

"I've always loved you," the painfully generic-looking woman murmured. She reached out her hand and a man grabbed it with a soft "_Mon cheri." _They began to make out.

"Ew." Maka covered her eyes.

Soul bit into a fry. "Ow. Hot."

"So what do you say? We can leave now, if you want."

He shrugged. "Sure. Sounds fun. But if you start cryin', I'm not bringing tissues."

"I won't cry," she snapped. "I'm not a baby."

Soul smiled. "I know. Let's go, _baby_. Grab your coat."

* * *

It was snowing again. The wind blew right through Soul's many layers of sweaters but Maka was smart and had bought one of those puffy jackets. She was toasty warm, but looked like "a giant marshmallow", as Soul had put it. When she stuck out her tongue at him, he warned her that it would freeze like that in the cold air. She pulled it back in and smacked his arm.

They had to walk for a half an hour, but once they got inside the theater it seemed worth it. It smelled like stale beer, cheap aftershave, and pee, the seats were dotted with mysterious stains, and there was a couple in the front row whose mouths seemed to be connected by some sort of super glue, but it was still better than staying at home.

Soul's stomach was growling insistently, even though they had just eaten a huge serving of fries, so loudly that Maka nudged him to shut up. He made his famous puppy dog eyes at her until she caved in and bought some popcorn. Apparently they sold beer, too. She came back with a bottle for them to split. It was lukewarm and watery, but they needed something to wash the popcorn down with.

_Poltergeist _and _The Evil Dead _came and left. _The Ring _was about to start when Maka was starting to get bored, the screen was impossible to see without looking at the couple in the front row, so when she whispered that they should get going soon, Soul nodded.

It was easy to sneak out; the only other people were a group of giggling girls whose faces were bright with light from their smartphones, a few other couples on dates, and oddly enough, an old woman who was eating popcorn and cackling to herself.

The movie ticket attendant was an unhappy-looking teenager who didn't even notice as they walked by.

* * *

"That was fun," Maka sighed into the late night air.

"Really?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"You hate horror movies."

"I don't _hate _them. And there was nothing else to do."

"I think you're lying. You went because you know _I _like horror movies. You feel bad about something, don't you? You always do nice things when you're guilty. What gives?"

"Okay! Fine! I feel bad about getting you sick! I suggested we go to this so we could do something that you liked."

"How did you get me sick? Oh, are you talking about when we played in the snow? That was the snow's fault, not yours. God, Maka." He chuckled.

"What?" she said defensively. "I still feel bad. It was my idea to play in the snow, remember?"

"Lighten up," he said, laughing harder. "It's not like you killed Santa or something. Unless you did that too."

Maka stayed quiet. Soul could practically see the steam coming out of her ears.

"Hey," he said. "I appreciate it. You tried to do something nice for me, even if _you _didn't like it. That's very thoughtful."

"Yeah," she muttered from under her scarf.

He didn't know what it was; the beer, the look on Maka's face, or the way those dumb orange streetlights were shining on the snow, but some weird feeling was rising in his stomach and he needed to do something about it and so he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

It was not a long kiss. Or a passionate kiss. It was short and awkward and didn't satisfy him at all, much to his confusion. He pulled away immediately.

Maka's expression wasn't angry, but it wasn't happy either.

"_Soul_," she said, shocked.

"I…" A lump was forming in his throat.

"I can't believe you just…!"

"I'm sorry," he croaked. "Maka, please, I... I'm so sorry."

"I thought we made a deal," she said softly. "No feelings. No kissing, no nothing."

"Yeah, but-"

"You broke your promise."

"I'm sorry" was all he could say.

"I-I'm taking a cab home."

"But it's late! How will you even find one? Just come home with me, please? I am so sorry, Maka, I won't let it happen again, just, please…"

"I have to go. I have work in the morning."

"Maka!"

She walked off into the night, leaving Soul in a panic.

"Shit!" He kicked a nearby snowbank and pulled on his hair. _Shit, shit, shit. How could I possibly be more stupid? She hates me. Oh my God. This is it. She's going to kick me out. And spit on me or something. No, she wouldn't spit on me. Fuck. I wish she would spit on me. That would be so much easier than talking. If she wants to talk about this, I am going to die. Shit._

* * *

When he got home, the apartment was dark. Maka was already asleep in her own bed, so Soul tried his best not to step on any creaky spots on the floor as he tiptoed to his room.

But he couldn't sleep. He punched his pillow to make it more comfortable (not sure how that would help but it sort of did), drank a glass of water, counted backwards from one hundred, and then finally his eyes closed and his mind could rest. It wasn't until six AM when he realized that Maka had been sitting on the fire escape stairs instead of curled up in her bed.


	20. Fire and Ice

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

Heavy snow blanketed the whole city. The windows were frosted with delicate ice patterns. Soul observed them as he drank his morning coffee. Work had called. The streets were too slippery to drive on, so he was off for the day. The only problem was, he was stuck in an apartment with someone who hated his guts. His stinky, smelly, evil loser guts.

He had assumed that Maka was still sleeping, so when he saw her clamber into the room from outside, he almost had a heart attack.

"Maka? How long have you been out there?"

She stood awkwardly, arms wrapped around herself. "I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah, no work today."

"Oh."

"You look cold."

"No, I'm okay." Her teeth were almost audibly clacking, and the pink on her cheeks wasn't from embarrassment.

"You're a terrible liar." He put a blanket around her shoulders.

She flinched as if he had just stabbed her in the arm with a fork.

_She can't even look at me. God, what have I done? _Soul could feel his eyeball spasming nervously and contemplated slapping himself in the face.

"Can we talk?"

The dreaded words had been spoken. Abort. Abort.

He almost screamed, but held it in. "Yeah," he managed. "Sure. Of course."

* * *

"I need to know why," she said quietly.

"N-need to know why what?"

"Why you kissed me last night."

He stared at the ground. A piece of the beige carpet was sticking up. He pressed it down with his toe, but it sprang back.

"I don't know," he said.

"You don't know," she echoed.

"Maka, you have to understand something. I didn't mean to do it. I never meant to ruin our friendship, especially like this. I acted completely selfish, and I didn't even stop to think about what you would say about it. I am really, really sorry. Please don't hate me. Or kick me out. I like living here with you. I don't know what I would do if I wasn't here."

"I think it would just be best if we forgot it ever happened. Agreed?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Agreed."

"All right. What do you want for breakfast?" She went into the kitchen. "I have a feeling I won't have to work today either, so we've got all the time in the world."

"Um, anything's fine with me."

"I'll just make some eggs then."

"Cool."

* * *

The day was hushed. Both Maka and Soul did their own work quietly in their own rooms, only interacting when they had to. Lunch and mild conversation. Dinner passed by, too. Soul had fallen asleep at his desk, so Maka ate alone. She didn't know he was zonked out, so when she passed by his room she just assumed he was doing something. She knocked on the door, and opened it. His limp form was flopped over the table, limbs spread out over the mess of pencil-marked papers and crumpled notebooks. (Was he working on a new song?) He was also snoring softly. A small puddle of drool had formed below the left side of his mouth. Maka had no idea how he could be comfortable in this position, but she turned off his light and closed the door behind her anyway. It would be no use waking him up only to tell him to go to sleep again. Plus, he got seriously grumpy when disturbed from a nap.

* * *

The next day was slightly easier. The snow was starting to melt, and so was Maka's icy demeanor. They both had to go to work. They still had to go food shopping and do laundry and they still argued over absolutely everything (Maka wanted him to stop buying those sparkling fruit drinks and his rebuttal was that they were on sale since the holidays were over, and Soul disliked the new dryer sheets they'd been using because they made him sneeze) and everything was back to normal in less than a week. Maka was just careful not to touch him, no hugs or kisses or pats on the back, not even a punch or a pinch when he'd tease her about something weird, like the color of her toothbrush. They even stopped sleeping in the same room. Maka took the couch now, despite Soul's attempts at getting her to stay. He even offered to go back to his old room, but she shook her head and dragged her comforter out to the living room.

Solitary nights gave her time to think.

Think about things that she didn't really want to explore, things that she'd been putting off for more than just a few days.

Soul kissed her.

And she didn't know why.

Okay, she kind of knew why. He was showing a little more affection that she was used to.

Wait, shit, no, he wasn't.

If anything, _she _was the one acting weird. She had kissed him on the cheek on Christmas. She started all of this. She freaked out on him for leading him on, and that wasn't cool at all.

So she'd been avoiding him. She was still his friend, but just a little more on the polite side than on the hair-ruffling, food fight-starting, cuddling side. And that sucked. She missed back when they could do just about anything and neither of them would think it's weird or invasive or romantic because they were just friends, just roommates, just a couple of people who live and breathe and do everything together. It was platonic friends with benefits, but now it was gone.

Some barrier had broken, and now everything they did had to be carefully thought about so that the other person wouldn't feel creeped out or just plain confused.

Maka hated it.

The main reason she loved living with Soul was because she could be herself, whether that meant singing in the shower or eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches for breakfast with mismatched socks on or crying along to soap operas. She felt safe and unjudged and happy to be with someone who appreciated all of her dorkiness. She liked that about him too. He spent too much time trying to convince everybody that he was tough, that he didn't take anything from anyone and he could protect himself from it too. While it wasn't entirely untrue, he was sensitive.

Soul was like an oyster. He built himself a hard outside to protect the soft inside, and if you took the time to get past his shell, you found something precious.

He was a real piece of work, and she was one of the few (maybe the only person ever) to get through his shell, which made her... what to him? They were more than best friends. Less than lovers. They were life partners. Maka couldn't imagine herself without him, and she knew he felt the same. They didn't know each other for very long, yet they still needed each other, were drawn to one another like they were magnets. Soul and Maka brought out the best in each other. That was their dynamic. He was the lazy, irresponsible, laid-back mediator, level-headed and prioritizing, while she was the hardworking, ferocious, excitable bottle rocket, easy to anger and willing to do anything to get what she wanted. She was fire and he was ice.

"Soul," Maka said from the couch, loudly. She waited, then spoke again. "Soul."

"Yeah," he mumbled from the bedroom.

"Can you come here for a second?"

"Yeah…" He dragged the rest of his bedding with him as he trudged to where she was sitting.

"I'm sorry."

" 'Scuze me? Why?"

"I've been a huge jerk to you, and it wasn't fair of me to get so mad. I… lead you on. It was totally inappropriate."

"You didn't mean to. Plus I was really confused that night. And drunk," he added. He didn't mention that he'd only had about only two sips of beer. It didn't even taste like beer. Maybe it wasn't beer. Maybe it was a love potion. Okay, maybe not.

"Are we okay?"

He smiled. "Yeah. We're okay."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I'm already here," he said, settling into the couch and yawning. "Why not?"

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

His eyes snapped open. "What kind of question is that?"

"Why else would you kiss me?"

"What the hell? What-? Maka! There's a lot of reasons why I wanted to kiss you."

"There were?"

"Yeah! I mean, uh, yeah."

"Would you mind… telling me some of them?"

"Are you going to get mad at me again?"

"No. I pinky promise."

"No offense, but the last time we made a pinky promise, it ended up with me kissing you and you leaving me to die in the freezing cold."

"That's an exaggeration-" she started.

"-And what you're feeling right now is called guilt," he interrupted. "Just lemme talk, nerd. I think you're a great person. You're annoying and scary as hell sometimes, though. But mostly you're just a pain in the ass. Like a little sister, who's… actually older than I am... and way hotter than a sister should be."

"You think I'm hot?"

"Would you shut up already? Now, where was I… oh, yeah. You've got some mad cooking skills, I mean, have you tasted your toast?" She laughed at that. "You aren't bad-looking, either, I guess. Nice… facial features. You have pretty eyes. And your smile 'n stuff."

"You're so weird."

"You're one to talk. You hate it when Cocoa Puffs turn the milk all chocolatey."

"It's not that same thing as chocolate milk."

"It's the exact same thing!"

"I've missed this."

"Missed what?"

"Talking to you." Maka snuggled up closer to him.

"I like you."

Maka didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I'm sorry, Maka."

"Soul, don't. Turn off the light and move over."


	21. Bubblegum Blush

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

They didn't know how it happened, really.

One minute they were getting home, unwinding after a long day at work, with Maka boiling water for tea and Soul trying to massage his shoulders. (Black Star had attempted to crack his neck without warning, and their squabble ended with a Bloody Mary spilled into Star's pants and what could be considered a timeout for Soul where their boss made him sit in the corner and sulk for a couple minutes.) The next, she sat next to him and put her feet up on the coffee table. It was a normal evening, just like always.

And then it wasn't.

"Kiss me."

Soul opened one eye, head lifting from its place on the couch cushion. "Hm?"

"I said kiss me."

"Okay." He did.

Nothing had changed since Soul's confession the previous night. Maka kind of knew it all along, and Soul didn't have anything else to say about it, so they just chose the "accept it and move on" approach.

This didn't really go along with that plan.

After a flurry of fervent kisses and grasps for skin on skin contact, they found themselves in the bedroom. If sexual tension was real, it didn't exist anywhere else more than it did here. Soul hovered over Maka's body, hands on either side of her. Sensing that he was hesitant to make the first move, she leaned up and kissed him, wrapping her hands around his neck.

Soul pressed his body down against hers, his tongue begging for entrance into her mouth, which she quickly granted. With a jolt of surprise, he realized that her hand had gone down to grope his ass.

Two could play at that game.

He grabbed her tush as well, smiling through their tangle of kisses.

"No fair if I can't do it," Soul whispered. "Plus, you have a nice butt."

She did have a nice butt. He was going to use that as an excuse from now on.

Soul was carefully making sure his hands didn't wander, but little did he know, Maka was getting impatient. She paused in the middle of a kiss to pull off her shirt.

Soul stopped her. "Wait."

"What?"

"Are we moving too fast? I don't want to rush you or anything."

"Soul," she said in that serious voice of hers, "I am a grown woman, and I think I can tell when we're going too fast."

"So… we're not?"

"Yes! And if we were rushing things, I would be sure to tell you. You know I don't get serious with people. If I'm serious with you, you should know that it means something."

"You didn't need to prepare a speech. Jesus."

Maka gave a huff in protest.

"Tell me something. Why now? Didn't you make it clear that you wanted to be friends?"

"Maybe I don't even know what I want."

"...Are you using me? For sex? Because I don't care if you are, but I don't want to get the wrong idea, and-"

"Casual sex isn't something I _do_, Soul. I thought you knew that."

"I just wanted to make sure. I really like you, Maka."

"I think I might really like you too. And I think this might… sort out whatever trouble I'm having deciding. Are you okay with that?"

"I get to kiss you all I want," Soul said happily. "I'm more than okay with this. This is going to be the best sex _of your life._"

* * *

Now that the two were shirtless, it wasn't hard to continue what they had started before. Maka turned it up a notch by nipping at his neck. She dragged her teeth along his skin, making him jump and let out a hissing "_haa_" noise.

To her astonishment, Soul was quaking and groaning under her touch.

"What are you doing? Don't just sit there," he almost whined.

Maka liked this sense of control. He was getting all hot and bothered because of what she was doing to him. And man, he was sexy. Sexy and sweaty and shaking and squirming and she wanted to make sure this lasted as long as possible.

"Oh? You mean like this?" She ran her mouth across his jugular, pressed her lips to his heated skin. His pulse was rapid against her tongue.

"Your heart's beating fast."

"Don't change the subject."

"Do I make you nervous, Soul?"

"Shut up."

_Yes. _She made him nervous. Like, so nervous he could feel himself reverting into his sixth grade self, when just the thought of the opposite sex made his palms sweat and his tongue wrap around itself so many times it was a miracle it could even untangle itself again.

Twelve years later and he found himself in the same spot. It was surprising to have his confidence shaken by such a nerdy, prudish girl, especially since he practically oozed masculinity. (At least, he liked to think so.)

Maka kissed him all over his neck; wet, loud kisses that felt so agonizingly good Soul thought he was going to pass out right then and he felt himself give a loud whimper.

"Are you okay?"

He managed to nod his head, sporting a bubblegum-pink blush.

"Soul?" Her face was so full of concern, he almost wanted to stop just so he could wrap her in blankets and hug her for the rest of forever. Or fuck her senseless. Either one. Wait, what?

"I… ah." He chuckled awkwardly. "No. I'm fine. It felt-oh, _fuck_." Seeing that no harm had been done, she continued torturing him. Working on a hickey on the base of his neck, she almost flinched when she felt him buck his hips.

"Sorry," he panted.

She experimentally ground herself against his crotch. He gasped, flushing an even deeper pink.

Soul gritted his teeth and stifled a moan. His fingers twitched by his sides.

"Maka," he said in a voice rasped like sandpaper.

"Yes?" Her whispers made goosebumps ripple across his skin.

He flipped her over and grinned, pinning her arms down. "It's my turn."

* * *

Soul never knew that Maka could make these kinds of sounds. Soft little grunts, breathy cries of pleasure. They were music to his ears.

Kissing down her jawline, he relished in the feeling of her fingers tugging on his snowy hair. He grazed her collarbone with his teeth, which was a lot more intimate once you realized that he could practically rip her apart with those razor sharp things of his but chose to bite oh-so gently instead.

His fingers prickled with electricity as they hovered above her baby-soft skin. His mouth moved with hers like the tempo to a perfect waltz, lips traveling to her shoulder, her breasts, her stomach, her forearms, anything and anywhere he could get to. He had longed to touch her for-how long, exactly? A month? A year? He didn't even know- and now here she was, like a dream.

He put a hand on the crotch of her underwear, making her gasp through another one of his kisses.

"Don't t-tease me, you, you…" she arched her back and gasped again.

"Don't s-s-stutter."

"Damn it, Soul! Stop-" She tried to scowl and failed.

"You really want me to stop?" He met her gaze. She was breathing hard, chest heaving, and there was something strange in her eyes, as if she was trying _not _to feel pleasure. As if feeling good was embarrassing or something. Soul, of course, thought this was absolutely ludicrous, and slowly inched her panties off of her hips. She let out a mewl.

He smiled devilishly and at her yelp of indignation, pressed his mouth right between her legs.

A moan escaped her. And then another, each growing higher and higher in pitch until she was yelling like a bee had flown into her pants. Her stomach contracted and quivered, her hands gripping the sheets like she was about to fling them right off of the mattress. If he wasn't so immersed in watching her scream, he would have laughed when she almost bumped her skull on the headboard.

Maka sank back, worn out. Soul had to make an effort not to high-five himself.

He had just gotten Maka Albarn to orgasm.

Awesome.

"Ready for round two?" He smiled. "Or if you need some time, that's cool too. No rush."

"You're a..." She tried to think of a good word to use, but her thoughts were getting jumbled.

"Hey. I just made you... you know. Be nice."

Maka buried her hands in her reddening face.

"I know, I know. Are you all right to move on?"

She squeaked out a "yeah" before peeking at him through her fingers.


	22. (Not) Like A Virgin

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

Soul stared at Maka, heart fluttering with nervous energy like a frantic bird in a cage. This was it. This was the part where he had to give it everything he had. Sure, he had been with girls before, absolutely, but Maka wasn't just any girl. If this didn't go well, he would _die_.

Suddenly, a thought struck him.

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

_Why did he have to make everything so damn awkward?_ "Why would you think that?"

"Fuck, I don't know!"

"Well, I'm not... a virgin," she said.

"Oh… okay," he mumbled.

There was an awkward pause.

Maka was getting annoyed again. "Stop looking at me like that and fuck me already!"

Soul's eyes widened. The girl before him was completely naked, completely willing, and completely… bored.

He had been so immersed in his inner worries that he had forgotten he had _a girl laying on a bed in front of him. _Well, that was about to change.

"Miss _Albarn_," he purred into her ear, "I never knew you were so forward."

_He was so hot. He was a bonfire, a volcano. _

Maka bit her lip as he leaned on her. His husky voice made her want to throw herself at him, but she tried to show some self-restraint, which was hard because he looked like a full on sex god, all ruffled hair and heavy lidded eyes and chapped lips that tasted faintly of chamomile tea.

She stopped for a beat, wanting to save the image, then opened her mouth. "Condom."

"Already on it. You ready?"

"Mm hm."

"I'll be gentle, 'kay?"

After hearing her gasp, he pressed his mouth on her own as both a distraction and an apology. "I thought you said you weren't a virgin," he grunted.

"It's been a while, okay?"

_Getting all defensive. That's my Maka._ He smiled and watched her body shudder as he ground his hips in excruciatingly slow circles against her.

"Does this hurt?"

"No," she said, panting and shaking her head, "no."

His thrusts were slow and careful at first, making sure he wasn't hurting her and planting kisses wherever he could reach to tell her that he was there for her. Her body fit into his like a glove.

This was so unreal. He was making love to this wonderful, gorgeous, amazing, perfect girl who just so happened to be gasping into his shoulder and nothing, _nothing _in the whole world could distract him from this. A meteor could hit the earth at this very second and he would just keep staring into her eyes, which were glassy and so _green. _

"Ah… faster," she whimpered. "Soul, faster." Her fingernails bit into his skin. Soul sped up his pace and happily listened to her moan. God, he could hear that all day. Every little squeak that came out of her mouth just spurred him on further.

"Stop being so cute," he said.

"Stop talking!" she said loudly in a strangled voice and silenced his mouth with a kiss. He groaned through it, making her lips vibrate slightly.

"Maka, I'm- I'm not gonna, _oh, fuck, _ah, last much longer_..._"

"I want you to come." She held his gaze until he looked like he was going to spontaneously combust.

He reached to brush his fingers by her clit, and the unexpected shocks of pleasure that followed was what made her tip over the edge. No, not tip. Fly. It was like some kind of out-of-body experience where she was watching herself while she floated like a ghost above the bed.

Seeing stars, she cried out in a wanton sob, clawing at his back hard enough to leave scratch marks that were sure to be there the next day, and then the next, and maybe even the day after that. He would think of them as souvenirs.

Soul gave it all he had and felt himself go too with a sharp, breathless "_Maka_!" as she clenched around him.

Catching their breath on a tiny mattress in a crappy apartment with the sounds of cars and traffic outside the window and the smell of laundry detergent on the sheets was in a word; perfect.

It was the most perfect moment in Soul's entire life.

And he didn't know it yet, but Maka thought it was pretty awesome too.

* * *

"That was nice." She bit her tongue. God, she sounded like she was back in the ninth grade on her first date. _That was nice,_ she mimicked herself. _Get it together. You're not eating spaghetti at an Italian restaurant. Your dad isn't here to pick you up and make sure that your date kept his hands to himself. There is no oregano stuck in your teeth. He doesn't kiss like a goldfish and tries to touch you under the table._

Thankfully, Soul didn't say anything but, "Yeah. It was." He was stroking her hair, his eyes drooping a little.

"You were right," Maka said.

"About what?"

"That was the best sex I've ever had."

Soul looked at her in amusement. "Really?"

"Sure."

"Well," he said, puffing out his chest just a tiny bit, "I told you so."

"Not that I have much to compare it to. I'm a little virgin, remember?"  
"You said you had had sex before," he hissed. "If you're telling me I was your first-"

"Relax, tiger. You weren't my first."

"Yeah, well." He brushed it off, trying to pretend he was just making a joke of it. "But by the way, for someone with such little sexual experience, I think you were the best I've ever had too."

"Better than your old landlady?"

Soul's jaw dropped.

"You know, it's pretty gross to think that your junk's been inside some forty year old."

"Thirty four year old." His face fell.

She had crossed the line. She felt like she had just punched a baby animal in the face. "Sorry. I didn't mean it."

He still seemed upset, so she snuggled closer and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry. I don't care about her. Just you. I'm sorry."

Soul pressed his lips together but nuzzled her with his head. "I know. It's okay." He kissed her shoulder, and then the tip of her nose. "Goodnight, sweetheart." His voice was only half-teasing.

* * *

A couple minutes passed and Maka could tell by Soul's breathing that he was soundly asleep. She stared at the body next to her. Shadows outside the window danced on the bed, casting dark shapes over his disheveled hair and open mouth.

"Soul."

"Mm." He smacked his lips, sighed deeply, and then was silent.

"Are you awake? I have to tell you something."

No answer.

"I just wanted to say that... I don't think I like you. I think I love you."


	23. Maka Plays Hooky

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, _Spirited Away, The Princess Bride, Insidious, Marley and Me, _or Nutella.

* * *

Maka panicked for a second before realizing that the sleeping figure next to her wasn't a pervert or even that suspiciously creepy guy who lived in 3B.

She closed her eyes as Soul began to stir beside her.

"Hey," he said in that painfully attractive rough-from-sleep voice.

"Hey," she said, turning to look at him. He had his head propped up on his elbow, and he was staring at her like they'd been doing this for a long time. Like this was normal, waking up with images of last night still fresh in their minds, with naked bodies and cold toes and a mutual sense of giddiness because the last time they were awake, they were on top of each other and howling like a couple of werewolves during a full moon. Their neighbors probably wanted to hit their heads against the wall, but it wasn't really Maka or Soul's main priority to make some "Sorry You Could Hear Us Fucking Last Night" cookies.

"I could get used to this." Soul spread his arms out on the pillows. "You know what I want right now?"

"What?"

"French toast. With powdered sugar and maple syrup on top."

"Mm. Don't wanna get out of bed." She burrowed deeper under the covers like a mole retreating from harsh sunlight.

"Fear not, princess. I'll make it. Keep sleeping." He pulled back the blanket to press his lips to her cheek.

As he left the room, Maka stared at the ceiling and listened to the sounds of the morning. An opening and closing refrigerator door, a sizzling frying pan, soft swearing from Soul; probably from hurting himself on the hot burner.

The sheets felt chilly against her skin and she had gross morning breath, but as Maka saw that boy with a lopsided grin and hair like starlight and a crumpled t-shirt and striped boxers come into the bedroom with a tray, she couldn't help but think that she wouldn't mind waking up to this every morning.

* * *

Soul set the tray down with a soft "wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey".

"I wasn't asleep, dummy."

"I know," he said, pouting. "I was trying to be cute."

"Then sit down and eat this with me, _cutie_."

With an enthusiastic pounce, he landed next to her and began shaking powdered sugar onto the toast. "Okay, we both take a bite on three? One… two…"

"Three!" Maka shoved the fork in her mouth, leaving him scrambling to eat his mouthful as well.

After breakfast, they sat in bed in comfortable silence. Soul's hand rested on Maka's thigh, tapping out a beat to an unknown song, and her fingertips drew invisible patterns on his chest. They shared a few kisses. Short, and powdered sugar sweet.

"I don't want to go to work today," Maka said as Soul entwined his fingers around her own.

"You wanna know a secret?"

"Hm?"

"Neither do I." He smiled. "I have an idea, though."

"What is it?"

"We can just stay home today. Call in sick. There's that flu going around, we can always blame that."

Maka scrunched up her nose.

"Tsubaki can cover for you. Black Star would do the same for me. Friends help friends. Come on, little miss goody two-shoes. One day of playing hooky won't kill you." His tone was light, but he wasn't kidding. "We can order Chinese food and watch movies. Play board games. Drink coffee. Have sex. I'll play you a song and you can pretend to like it. We can watch the sun set over the city. And then we'll fall asleep on the couch surrounded by junk food."

Maka looked at him warily.

"Have you ever taken a day off in your life?"

_Not if I could help it, _was her answer, but he was already dialing the bar's phone to confess his fake illness.

"Soul, should we be doing this?"

"Of course we _shouldn't_. But we can."

* * *

So they did.

Movies after breakfast; Spirited Away (Maka's choice), The Princess Bride (Soul's choice), Insidious (also Soul's choice. It made Maka scream and hide behind a pillow. God, Soul loved horror movies. They were the perfect excuse for cuddling.), and finally Marley and Me. (Maka swore that Soul was crying, but he claimed there was a piece of cashew chicken in his eye.)

Between The Princess Bride and Insidious, they had called in for Chinese food.

After the movies, they played Monopoly for almost three hours, but Maka got a little too into it and flipped the board when Soul refused to give up one of his blue spaces.

Soul kept his promise and played her part of the song he was working on. She didn't even have to pretend to like it.

They drank coffee. Maka liked two sugars and one cream, Soul liked a lot of both. And "a lot" meaning she had to physically get him to stop adding it to his drink because there was more sugar than liquid and it was more like too-sweet sludge than actual coffee. He just laughed at her horrified expression, poured himself another cup, and promised to buy more if they ran out. Maka said that wasn't the point, and that it was about it not being good for him, and then he kissed her, using the excuse that she was really cute when she got annoyed.

They almost had sex again.

When it got late, they made sandwiches (one peanut butter and banana, and one Nutella) and sat out on the balcony, bundled in blankets and watched the sky as it turned from thundercloud gray to charcoal gray to void black. When Maka fell asleep in his lap, Soul picked her up bridal-style and put her in bed. He kissed her soft, a goodnight-but-not-goodbye kind of kiss, and went to sleep.


	24. Afternoon Delight

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

Oh, what's this? Another sex chapter? You're welcome.

* * *

"Hey, Soul?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we?"

He stopped chewing his bite of blueberry muffin. "What do you mean?"

"Well, are we boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

"If you wanna put labels on it. We don't have to be anything right now, but I'd like it if we were."

"Yesterday was really nice," Maka said. "But did it mean anything, or…?"

"I don't know. Did it mean anything to you?"

"Of course it did."

"You said you weren't sure of your feelings for me. Have you come to a conclusion about all that?"

_She had. _Of course she had.

When they first became friends, Soul had made a tiny hole in her heart. As they grew closer, it got bigger. It ached and hurt like it was making room in her tough, bitter heart for something better, something that would replace the fear and hate that Maka had wedged deep inside of her. Soul was the first boy she could trust since her sneaky, conniving, rat of a father. Soul showed her what it was like to feel again. His warmth and realness twinged at the parts of her that hadn't been open for years. He was the person who finally got through to her, who got her to open up and confide in him. Maka had originally shied away from anything relationship-related, not wanting to end up in a sorry situation like her poor mama, but Soul was different. She knew it. She _felt _it, like a strange new awakening in the bottom of her stomach, bursting in her lungs, screaming from her brain and pounding in her heart. He wouldn't leave her, he wouldn't find someone else, and he loved her. _He loves me_, she thought to herself. _Soul loves me. He wants me and only me and nothing would make him happier than to say that he's mine too, so why am I still so afraid? _

She was cautious; she was stepping into new territory and if she took one wrong step, it would blow up in her face. But Soul, sweet, sweet Soul, all ruby eyes and worry and slackened hands around his glass of milk when he saw her expression, knew. He knew she was scared of being hurt, of being left alone, of being thrown away like she didn't even matter, but he also knew that she was the most important thing in his life, that she made him better and fixed him when he was at his lowest point, comforted him in the bad times and kept his company in the good. This girl was driving him crazy, he loved her so much.

He was just the family reject, the one nobody wanted. She was the child of a careless womanizer and a mom who was just sick of it all. They needed each other more than they knew. They fit together like two pieces of a broken puzzle, and it never should have worked but it still did somehow.

Everything that passed through Maka's mind went directly into Soul's. He just knew. And he took her hands across the table."Then I guess we're a couple."

"A couple." Maka tried the word in her mouth.

"Is that okay?"

She smiled. "Yeah."

"Cool." Soul looked excited, almost nervous. He kissed her cheek. "I'm gonna go. See you tonight."

"See you," she said, watching him walk away.

* * *

Work was wonderful. Nothing could bother her. Even the most terrible, cranky, annoying customers were nothing but a little gnat which her happiness squashed immediately. She even found herself humming, which never ever happened. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. She had a _boyfriend. _Her heart did a little tap dance.

Around five thirty, Soul called her.

"Hey," he cooed. "How's my little honeypie doing?"

"Soul, what the hell?" She stifled a laugh.

"I'm kidding," he said. "My shift's over, so I thought I'd head home. Want me to pick up some dinner?"

"That would be great. I'm starving."

"Burgers? Or that new Indian place you wanted to try?"

"Either one's fine."

"All right. I'll be back soon." She could almost hear the wink in his voice. "Wait for me, okay?"

"Wait for what, to eat? You're the one with the food. Wait, is this some kind of innuendo or something? Because you know I don't get those."

"It wasn't meant to be one. Uh, I mean, not unless you wanted it to. _Once I walk through the door, I'll rip your clothes off and have my way with your perfect body_," he said in a lowered voice.

She was at a loss for words.

Soul laughed, harder than she thought was necessary. "I'm just messing with you," he said. "Although that does sound like fun."

Maka spluttered. "Indecent much?"

"We're on the phone! Who's listening, the government? Hey, anyone listening? Did you hear me? WE'RE GOING TO HAVE SEX."

"SOUL."

"Relax! Even if they could listen in on us, I don't think they'd have much interest in a couple of horny kids."

"I'm twenty four! And I'm not horny!"

"Yeah, well. Not yet, anyway."

"_Soul!"_

* * *

When the door opened, Maka was immediately scooped up into the arm's of a certain someone.

She laughed as he spun her around and kissed her.

"What?" He ran his hands up her back.

"Quit it!" she said, hopping out of his grasp. "You weren't kidding when you said you were horny."

"Um, I wouldn't lie about that. Who do you think I am?"

"Where's the food?"

"On the table. And you mean to say I have to take care of it myself? Harsh."

"Let me eat!" She swatted him with the sleeve of her shirt and sat down, popping open a styrofoam container. Steam rose up in curly tendrils, smells of curry and paprika filling her nose. She took a bite of naan bread. "This is really good."

"Do you want me to beg? Because I can totally do that."

"Dinner is more important to me than your sexual pleasure."

"Seriously?"

"I'm tired," Maka whined. "Just leave me alone."

"I need you," Soul whined louder.

"No, you don't."

"I have a girlfriend for that stuff now! What's the point?"

''Stuff'?" she said innocently.

"You know what I mean!" he howled.

"You're silly." She kissed him through a mouthful of basmati rice. "If you still like me when I have rice breath, that's when I know there's something wrong with you."

"Kiss me more. I don't care. Just touch me."

"I'm not touching you until I finish eating."

"Hmph."

He sulked while she ate. She made a point of moaning every time she took a bite.

A forkful of tandoori chicken.

Moan.

Palak paneer.

_Moan. _

Soul frowned at her.

"What?" She licked her fork.

"Stop it."

"I'm not doing anything."

"If you keep doing that I'm gonna have to fuck you on the table."

Maka stopped chewing and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. That was so bad. I'm really sorry."

She cleared her throat. "It's okay. I'm sorry for teasing you."

"It's just…. ugh. Thinking about you in that stupid work uniform… just…. It does something to me."

Her stomach flipped.

"God. Forget I said anything."

Maka wiped her mouth, put down her napkin, hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him. His response was so immediate, she nearly fell out of her chair. He took her face in his hands and kissed her so deeply and for so long it was like the more oxygen she lost, the more Soul's lips crashing against hers felt like fire. It burned in her mouth, and she loved it. She grabbed the fabric of his shirt closer toward herself, and when the rumbling of his moans didn't satisfy her, pulled the damn thing right over his head. Legs wrapped around his waist, he lifted her up again and stumbled blindly into one of their bedrooms (really, did it matter whose?).

While their last endeavor had been all slow and patient and caring, this one was fierce and full of need. He tore off her shirt. It made a ripping sound, then got tossed carelessly into the corner. Maka almost said something, but decided against it. Even the smallest squeal of protest might disrupt the mood, and that was a chance Maka was not willing to take.

Soul placed her on the bed, undid her bra with deft fingers. Head leaned back, she closed her eyes as he moved his warm, wet mouth all over her breasts. His teeth left tiny imprints on her skin, like pricks from sewing needles. He kicked away his pants hurriedly, took hers off, and then underwear was the only barrier between their aching bodies. An unspoken agreement. Soul almost crushed her, but knew when to stop before his weight pressed too heavy on her small body. This time it didn't hurt. She wasn't particularly in the mood before, but now this was proof that he could change that. The mere thought of him touching her like that again made Maka's body tingle.

There was no sign of the warm, gentle lovemaking that she had experienced before. Desire shone from behind his pleasure-numbed expression. Teeth gritted, sweaty forehead. He rammed into her repeatedly, and frustratedly, like he was trying with all of his might to break the bed in half. He finished before her this time with an animalistic growl, but she wasn't too far behind.

It was fantastic; it left her in a daze and her skin hot to the touch. Not as completely amazing as their first time, but probably just because there wasn't as much buildup. There were no sweet nothings whispered into her ear, just grunts and moans and sobs. And this was a completely different feeling, Soul fucking her like this. It was hungry and raw and primal and another side to him; a more well-hidden one. Whatever it was and wherever it came from, she liked it. Liked it so much, she wanted more right this instant. And if Soul was too worn out from their last escapade, she would just have to satisfy herself. Maybe on the couch, where a certain horndog could see. But there would have to be a solid metal wall separating them for Soul to refuse that job, because when it came down to it, her pleasure was his duty to fulfill. And if he should fail to do that, may crows peck out his eyeballs.

* * *

After another full hour of bed-shaking, scream-inducing, mind-blowing dirty deeds, Soul picked up Maka's half-eaten dinner. "You gonna finish this?"

"Can we split it?"

"Sex makes you hungry too, huh? Right on." He grinned and handed her a clean fork. The one she had been using before was hanging out of his mouth.

"I guess so."

"You look so cute when you're ravenous." He glanced at her, cheek full of mango chutney. "... And wearing my clothes."

Maka looked down, just now realizing that she had put on his button-up.

He waved her off. "No worries. Looks better on you anyway."

"I would have had something else to wear, but _someone _ripped my clothes."

"Will the 'your work uniform turns me on to no end' excuse work again?"

"If I get to keep your shirt, we're even."

"Done."


	25. First Comes Love

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

He was the one who said it first.

They were just chatting about anything and everything on their break when Maka heard Black Star shout in the background that Soul needed to get back to pouring cocktails or he would trickle warm beer into his ear when he caught him sleeping at the bar next time. Soul yelled something snappy back at him, and Maka laughed.

"Ugh, okay, I have to go."

"Don't work too hard."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm _coming, _Star! Calm down!" and then back to Maka, "I won't, believe me. See you soon. Love you."

It wasn't until after he hung up that he realized what he had said. He froze. Shit, did he just...? And then hung up before she could say anything back? What could she even do with that? What would she say if she got a chance to? Would she say it back? Or just stay silent? Or laugh in his face? (He really hoped she wouldn't do that one.)

"Did you hear me, kid? Vodka on the rocks."

Soul shook his head, suddenly aware of the man sitting in front of him.

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry."

"Is this guy giving you any trouble?" Black Star popped up from under the counter (strange, he wasn't there a second ago) and pointed at Soul. "He's a rascal. Let me know if he does somethin' wrong. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Are you trying to make me look bad?" he hissed at the now-cackling Black Star, who sat on the bar with his legs crossed.

"I'm just kidding, man. Lighten up."

Soul poured the drink and sighed. "Yeah. I just…"

"Feel like an idiot since you told your girlfriend you loved her and then hung up?" Black Star nodded thoughtfully while taking down a shot.

"You're not supposed to drink when you're working," Soul said grouchily, taking his glass.

"No one actually follows that rule." He belched. "And you're changing the subject. Just talk to her about it. She's probably just as nervous as you are."

"And what the hell do you know about relationships? Your idea of a pick up line is '_Hey, I have blue hair. Wanna have sex_?'"

"I know more than you think. Don't underestimate your god, Evans. I have a date tonight."

"Oh? With who?"

"That chick who works down at the cafe with your girlfriend. Tsubaki?"

"No way, man."

"Yes way, man! She's awesome! Sweet blue eyes, long black hair..."

"...taller than you…" Soul refilled the customer's shot glass and smirked.

"Shut up. She's perfect."

"And _totally innocent_. Don't mess with her, seriously. Tsubaki's a good one." Soul had met her when he swung by the cafe a while ago to visit Maka, and she was probably the most patient, pleasant person he'd ever met. It was hard to imagine her with an egotistical, self-centered guy like him.

'I wasn't planning to, asshat." Black Star scowled. "I'm taking her to dinner. Like a _gentleman_. If you wanna tag along with Maka, feel free."

"Maybe I will."

* * *

"I can't believe I actually agreed to this."

"You're the one who _had _to start arguing with him." Maka adjusted his tie. "Hold still!"

"This is going to be a nightmare. I don't see how you're being so calm."

"I know that Tsubaki can handle herself, and if they look like they're doing fine-"

"We can ditch 'em and get takeout instead?" Soul perked up.

Maka tapped his shoulder. "Great minds think alike. You're all set."

Soul held out an elbow. "Out of the frying pan…"

"Into the fire."

* * *

Tsubaki and Black Star were chatting up a storm, much to Soul and Maka's surprise, and so the latter couple spied on them for a while.

The dark-haired girl was dolled up pretty enough to star in a modelling shoot, although she always looked like that. A dark blue dress that sparkled like it was sewn out of diamonds and stardust floated around her like she was sitting in her own little galaxy. Her date actually cleaned up nicely as well; he had a black tuxedo and a messily put on tie, which Tsubaki looked eager to fix for him but sat still nonetheless. His rowdy, immature personality was complete opposite to her shy, reserved self, but she opened up to him and he listened quietly while she spoke.

Soul was impressed and felt bad about shaming him before. He was proving himself to be quite the charmer.

"Sir, are you going to be needing a table, or-?"

Soul looked up and flinched. A waiter was staring puzzledly at them.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you."

"Would that one over there be all right?" Maka pointed to a table on the other side of Tsubaki and Black Star's, which was hidden from sight but made it so that they could still hear them.

"Yes, miss. Right this way."

They plowed through one and a half bread baskets and two refills of complimentary champagne before anything interesting happened. Tsubaki excused herself to the bathroom, saying something about having to powder her nose (who even said that anymore, this wasn't some flapper girl scene or old western movie with cowboys and saloons where you could walk up to the counter and ask the bartender for a _sarsaparilla_), and Maka tailed her. Soul, meanwhile, scooched into Black Star's seat, scaring him out of his wits.

"I came, didn't I?"

"Where's Maka?" Black Star asked wearily.

"Hosting an intervention with your date in the ladies'."

"I swear to God, if you two mess this up…"

"We won't. We just wanted to see how you were doing. Good?"

"Yes! Very good! Great! You can leave now!"

Soul spun his glass around thoughtfully. "I don't think so. This is actually more fun than I expected."

* * *

Maka's surprise arrival frightened Tsubaki so much she had to sit down. She saw her in the mirror behind her and screamed like a banshee, which in turn scared the pee (literally) out of the other women in the bathroom.

"Sorry," Maka laughed, helping her friend up. "Me and Soul came to see how your date was shaping up."

"Wonderfully!" Tsubaki beamed. "I really like this guy, Maka. He's not as dumb as everyone thinks he is, he's very thoughtful and considerate. I think this is going to work."

"Then we could go on double dates more often!"

"I don't think this counts as one, though. You and Soul are just sneaking around the restaurant."

Maka's face fell. "You mean you saw?"

"I did. Black Star, not so much."

"We could have a double date right now, if you want. We could join you two."

"Are you sure? Soul didn't look to excited about eating here."

"He's a sourpuss. Nothing can get him excited."

"Except for you." Tsubaki gave a knowing smile. "So how are you two lovebirds? You and Soul seem really happy."

"We are! You know, having a boyfriend isn't at all what everyone says. It's not about chocolate or flowers or teddy bears, it's about accepting everything about each other, even the parts that can be improved on. I thought dating Soul would just make things weird between us, but to be honest, nothing's changed. We've always been this way. It's just… natural."

"We've got a good pair of boys."

"But there is one thing… Soul said he loved me for the first time today. And I didn't get to say it back. And now I don't know if things are weird."

"He's probably just as nervous as you are," Tsubaki said gently. "Don't rush it. If you feel the same, tell him. If you don't, wait it out. It's okay to be hesitant sometimes."

* * *

It turned out that Soul _didn't _want to stay for the rest of the date. He was looking forward to fast food and turning in early, not bite-sized entrees and expensive desserts that, judging by their prices, must have been made out of pure gold and the tears of unicorns.

Their pals seemed more than happy to let them leave. They were too busy gazing into each other's eyes to notice they had gone, or that their filet mignon had gotten cold.

Maka and Soul dressed down, re-dressed in pajamas, ate their cheap, crappy food, and went to bed. They didn't need fancy clothes or food or wine to have a good night. Neither did Tsubaki and Black Star, but for their first date, it was a nice touch. Their first date also ended with a goodnight kiss and two very bashful smiles.

Maka and Soul's ended with the former whispering "I love you" into the latter's ear. He, of course, wasn't even asleep in the first place and kissed her cheek. And that was all she needed.


	26. Stupid Cupid

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

Sorry for updating so late! I ran out of pre-written chapters so now I have to write as I go along and... _jeez_, it kind of sucks. Enjoy!

* * *

Really, the only difference in being roommates and being partners was the emotional intimacy. They were more open with each other feeling-wise, which was a big step in the right direction since they both had an issue with that sort of thing. Soul's way of coping with something he didn't like was to just put it bluntly, but his straightforwardness wasn't always put to good use as it more often than not upsetted Maka. He wasn't delicate, and sometimes he forgot that she _was _when it came to some things. However, Maka's way to let him know he was doing something she didn't like was to pout and sulk and groan and pull faces until he figured it out, and it drove him crazy since apparently she thought that he just _knew _what was wrong automatically. (He didn't.) They were both better at talking and communicating how they felt now.

The other difference was the physical intimacy.

It was more than just physical, it was a resonance between their souls. It was a connection that involved both body and mind and it made them feel closer than ever.

It was also just _fun. _Soul whispered things in public because he knew it made Maka crazy and she would burn with embarrassment when they were out shopping for paper towels and dish soap, and he would pick up a jug of fabric softener and smile at her like nothing happened, and she would fidget all the way through the checkout line until they finally got home and then she'd practically jump him as soon as he'd set down the grocery bags.

They didn't really keep track, but while most of their bedroom adventures actually ended up _in the bedroom, _some didn't. They had done it on the living room couch, on the floor and bed of both their rooms, even on the kitchen counter (but then they had moved to the table because the tiles were too cold on Maka's skin and Soul agreed that it wasn't all that comfortable).

Position-wise, they had been content with missionary. Maka liked it when he was on top of her, but even with that in mind, he had gotten her to try riding him for once, and all he could say on that matter was _holy shit_.

She was always... energetic in bed, and as soon as their clothes disappeared, so did her brain. Well, maybe that wasn't the right way to put it, but Soul often wondered how he had ever thought that she was innocent, because after a few rounds of "Let's Put Our Genitals In Each Other's Mouths", he realized she was the opposite. And when they were going at it one time where she was literally begging him in a low voice that liquified his insides to organ-flavored mush to fuck her silly, he decided right then and there that if he was a demon, she was the devil herself. She was the queen of all vanilla sex, but he'd be damned if she didn't manage to make it feel different every time.

Being in love was probably the most amazing feeling in the world. Holding hands in the laundry room, sneaky kisses in between work schedules, a look that lasted a second too long, exchanged smiles that said everything while saying nothing, a quick "bye, I love you" or "have a great day, I love you" or "you're stupid, I love you".

* * *

For Valentine's Day, Soul had a whole day planned out. At first, Maka had wanted to help, but got frustrated because they lost the reservation to a restaurant that they were going to go to. Soul stepped in to save the day with a new agenda of his own that included heart-shaped crepes with strawberries and hand-whipped cream, cards made out of construction paper and glitter glue like the ones everybody made for their classmates in elementary school, a whole afternoon of activities, and to top it off, he had checked them into a fancy hotel for the whole experience. Chilled champagne, five hundred channels of free movies, room service, an ultra plush king-sized bed… It had it all. They could just sleep the whole time and it would be perfect. Although, other things might be nice too. Shelling a wad of cash from his hard-earned salary was painful enough. He didn't need his girlfriend to choose shiatsu massages and chocolate-covered strawberries over him.

Maka woke up to a cold side of the bed. Soul was nowhere to be seen, and as she rubbed away the tears that formed in the corners of her eyes from yawning, she couldn't hear anything either, even him peeing (they had gotten used to that sound a long, long time ago).

Quickly dressing in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms (Soul's, obviously, since the pants in the women's sections of stores were always see through, not warm at all, and clingy) and a sweater that may or may not also have belonged to Soul. She braved the icy floors with bare feet, and found the boy up and busily cooking something which smelled sweet and doughy, which was everything perfect in the world.

"Morning." Her voice was a little froggy, and she tried again after clearing her throat. "Whatcha makin'?"

"You were supposed to be sleeping," he said hurriedly, and as he turned to flip something in a pan, she saw that there was a smeared glob of whipped cream on his cheek.

She scooped it up with a finger and poked it into her mouth. "Mm. Did you add mini chocolate chips?"

"I would have, if you reminded me to buy them. You ate the rest of the last bag, remember?" Soul smirked. "Do me a favor and cut up those strawberries, will you?"

"Of course, Chef." She sliced while he swirled batter.

Maka put a half of one fruit in his mouth and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Are those heart-shaped crepes?"

"It's too much, isn't it?"

"It's just enough."

"Wait 'til you see my card."

"Wait 'til you see mine!" She sprinted to the bedroom. "I'm gonna get it, don't eat yet!"

Soul snuck in a couple bites and fished his card out of its hiding spot behind the stack of cookbooks on the counter.

"Soul, you better not be eating those berries!"

He swallowed and stuck his tongue out as she came back to show that he wasn't. "Of course I'm not."

"There's a seed stuck in your teeth. Nice try, though." She bounced on her feet, grinning. "Here ya go," she added, handing him a piece of folded paper decorated with little hearts and scraps of white lace. He in turn gave her her card, and they both read for a second. Soul chuckled to himself. Maka had written down about ten different jokes with terrible punchlines and/or puns. She drew a little bear at the bottom where it said "I love you beary much!"

Soul felt like a complete dolt, because instead of being affectionately cheesy, he had gone over the top, and not in a good way. He spent a good half hour trying to think of what to write in his card, and sprouted a few paragraphs of mushy gushy, ooey gooey romantic crap that came from somewhere deep inside him, a place that scared him into never Googling "How To Express Love For Your Girlfriend" ever again.

Looking back at that, he decided maybe a bouquet of roses and some hand-pulled caramels would have been a better idea.

He stood in awkward silence while Maka read the card (more like an essay, not that Soul thought anything of it at the time).

When she finished, he was immediately crushed into an unexpected bone-jarring hug, and she buried her nose in his shirt. She pulled away, face flushed rosily, and gave the biggest smile he'd ever seen her make. After a kiss or two (or three), they ate breakfast.

The crepes were a little more kidney-shaped than heart-shaped, and the cream could've been whipped more, but it was the thought that counted, and Soul got an A in the effort department.

Since he was expecting her to wake up well past noon, there was nothing to do for a few hours. They went back to bed, where Maka fed the remaining strawberries to him and snuggled up close to his chest.

* * *

"Why'd you make me take a nap, now I'm tired again," Maka said, looking cross as she struggled to stay upright.

"We're doing something fun." Soul pulled a shirt over his head and snapped his fingers in front of her face when she started to doze off again.

"I'm awake!" she snapped, one eye still closed.

"You might have to wear this on the way." He held up a blindfold.

"Is this leading up to some big sex thing? Because I'd rather do that here."

Soul choked. "I... what? No! It's not a sex thing! It's a normal thing! It's a secret! Never mind. Just put this on."

_I try and be romantic and this is what I get. _


	27. Diamonds Are Overrated, Anyway

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater or Spider-Man.

* * *

So after making a short pit stop to get coffee, they arrived at activity number one; ice skating.

Maka tore off the fabric covering her eyes. "Oh!"

"This is why I made you wear a coat. You didn't need to pitch a hissy fit about it."

"It was hot!" she said indignantly. "I'm wearing leggings under my dress too, sheesh."

"You're not getting frostbite while we're on a date. On Valentine's Day. Hold up, I gotta get our skates." Soul went to rent them while Maka watched the other people sliding over the freshly Zambonied surface, slick and shiny like glass.

* * *

"Okay, let me just say that I've never actually stepped foot in an ice rink before, so…"

"Don't worry, I'll show you how! Come on!"

"My laces aren't tight enough. Let me sit down a second."

"Soul, stop it. You're dawdling. This was your idea."

"It was a _bad _idea. Maybe we could just go back home?"

Maka dragged him to the edge. "Just hold my hands. You won't fall, I promise. Put one foot on the ice… there we go… now the other foot." She snorted, but turned it into a fake-sounding sneeze when he shot her a sour look reminiscent of a large grouchy baby who couldn't figure out how to put on their socks correctly. "I'm sorry. It's just… you can't _walk_. You have to skate."

"I'm trying."

"Hold the rail. Watch me." She glided like a swan, and it annoyed Soul more than he'd like to admit because she was kicking his butt with zero effort. And then she did a spin, and his mouth dropped open. He gripped the railing and inched his way across the side, awkwardly moving at a turtle's pace. Small children and old ladies swooshed by, making the humiliation even worse, but Maka didn't laugh. She took his hands again and taught him how to keep his balance. Wobbly but determined, he got in a good several feet or so before falling on his rear end.

"Soul, you okay?"

He groaned in response, not moving from his spot on the cold ground.

"Can you get up?"

"My ass hurts."

Maka laughed this time. "That's what you get for leaning backwards."

He grunted as she helped him up and winced. "No, I was leaning _in _like you told me, woman. _Ow_. Okay, that really hurts. Is it possible to break your butt?"

"You might have bruised your tailbone." She scooched him over to the side so they wouldn't get run over. "Does this hurt?"

Soul made a noise like a yelp mixed with a very small scream. "Yes! And just for future reference, don't grope me in public!"

"You need ice."

"Should I sit down again?"

"Don't be a smartass. We're leaving. You got any other activities for today?"

"We were supposed to skate, have a picnic, then go on a romantic walk and check into our hotel room."

"We can eat, at least. A walk might be stretching it. And hold on, you're telling me we're spending the night at a hotel?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise." His pout was ruined by his elderly man hobble as Maka led him back to safer, non-slippery ground.

"Are you sure you're all right? We can call off our Valentine's Day plans."

"No," Soul said firmly. "We're not cancelling anything. It's just my butt, not the end of the world."

He could've sworn she said something like "_your butt is out of this world_" but his back was turned so he wasn't sure.

* * *

For a late lunch/early dinner, they went to the park. Other couples were cuddling on blankets or eating red velvet cupcakes and exchanging candy conversation hearts, but Soul and Maka scarfed down hastily made sandwiches and laid sprawled on the ground.

"Did you ever stare at clouds when you were little?" Maka smiled into the bright sunshine and looked up. "Tried to find shapes and stuff?"

"I see a circle."

"Try again."

"That ones looks like an oval...ly shape… with sort of a… squarish front."

"You have no imagination. This is just disappointing. See, that could be a dog. The chubby kind with the short legs and the little tail."

"Corgi?"

"That's the one." She paused thoughtfully. "I want to own a corgi. Or some kind of dog."

"I like dogs, " Soul agreed. "I had one when I was younger. "

"Did you have to leave him behind?"

"No, we put him down when I was eleven."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"We can get a dog someday."

_Someday. _Someday meaning that they would still be together, someday meaning they might have a real house_,_ with jobs that didn't include dealing with drunk men in their mid-life crisis or ignoring catcalls and actually paid well? A working sink that you didn't have to hit to turn on the garbage disposal? Enough money to support them for years to come and take care of pets and possibly even… dare he think it… _kids_?

A nearby scream jolted them out of their puppy daydreams. A young woman was gasping and blubbering and crying because of the kneeling man, presumably boyfriend, in front of her, and as he uncovered the hunk of rock in its little velvet box, she jammed it on her finger and shouted "YES" which to then the surrounding onlookers whistled and clapped.

Soul felt like he wanted to crawl under a rock. That should have been him proposing, that should have been Maka's tears of joy, that should have been the fairytale ending for _their _love story, but it wasn't. He couldn't afford a ring. He couldn't give Maka the life she could have had much earlier than this, and it made him angry and heartbroken at the same time. He wanted to put a diamond on her finger and spend the rest of his life making her happy because she deserved the world, and he was willing to convince her of that for as long as it would take. He loved her more than anything.

Maka squeezed his hand and tilted her head at him in that adorable way that made her hair fall across her cheek, overwhelming him with the need to tuck it behind her ear. She didn't have to say anything for him to know what she meant.

They sat watching the sky until after the other couples packed up their acoustic guitars and newly-uncovered engagement rings and other sparkly jewelry and chocolates and four foot tall stuffed animals.

* * *

The first thing Soul did at the hotel was belly flop onto the bed, while Maka went to explore the rest of the room. A mini fridge, not one but _three _kinds of shampoo and conditioner, a blow dryer that was built into the wall, a forty two inch screen flat screen TV, and sheets and pillows fluffy enough to bury a cherub or two in its cozy, comfy depths.

They ordered room service to add to their already hefty bill, but it was worth every penny for the italian sodas, hot chocolate, _pizza_, of all things, and other endless snackage. They jumped on the bed and whooped loudly enough to drown out the noises of other couples in the building. They cuddled. They rolled around like pigs in a mud puddle trying to tickle each other. Tickles turned to caresses which turned to gentle petting which eventually turned to kisses. Off came the clothes and out came their "I love you"s, then Soul pressed his lips to her throat and she gave that little noise of relief and pleasure that only came from his body against hers, when he slipped inside of her and made her feel as whole as the full moon. Her back arched, her voice a hurtling sob torn from her vocal cords, and they held hands the entire time, fingers interlocking tightly. Soul whispered her name with a cherry-colored tongue into her mouth and breathed it into the sweet scent of her hair.

And then they slept in tie-dyed shirts that they made together (another one of Soul's genius date ideas; it got everywhere and stained the couch red and blue, not that he really minded since he thought it kind of looked cool in a Spider-Man kind of way).

And it didn't matter that he would be regretting the hole in his pocket after this, or that he didn't have a wedding ring ready or a plan for their future, or that he was sappy to the point of annoyance or maybe even not enough.

Nothing mattered except for them.


	28. The Letter

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

He found the letter before Maka got home. Of course he was confused; what was the thick envelope doing in their mailbox, why was it addressed to him, and why was the return address from Death Records? His eyes scanned the heavy paper. _Dear Mr. Evans…. something something… application you submitted…? Huh? Weird… blah blah blah… we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted… we are looking forward to working with you… we'll have you brought to our Chicago location to start work immediately…_

This was all very strange.

So naturally when Maka _did _come home, his head was spinning.

"Maka!" He scrambled off of the couch and flung the thing in her face.

"What's this?"

"I don't know, it just came..."

Her expression remained neutral while she read the paper, then exploded into a smile. "Soul! I can't believe this! Death Records wants to work with you!" She gave him a hug, jumping up and down a little. "This is so exciting!"

"Wait, wait." He removed himself from her embrace. "I don't remember sending in any application. I threw it away, didn't I?"

"I thought you changed your mind," Maka said slowly. "You said it was a good idea after all."

_About a week ago, Maka and Soul had gotten caught in the rain and ducked under a covered area next to the local community center. There was a board with papers tacked to it, advertising bike repairs and dog walking and painting jobs for hire. One flyer in particular stood out; something about piano auditions. It wasn't until after the storm stopped and they continued walking that they realized that it wasn't only a paid job, it was for one of the biggest record companies in America: Death Records. It was run by a young man who was simply known as "Kid", who had taken over the business after his father retired. He was rich, talented, and anybody who even had a shred of hope to get into the music biz knew about him._

_In a musician's shoes, this could be an opportunity of a lifetime. This could change everything. _

_But Soul had shrugged it off, saying something about not wanting to get worked up just to get knocked down again. No amount of insisting or begging or bargaining with him would change his mind. _

"No, I didn't." He scoffed. "Hold on. Did _you _send one in for me?"

"No."

"Maka, _did you send one in for me_?"

She tried to make herself seem small, but Soul's gaze stayed firm and she wilted. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding? This is a huge deal! I couldn't let you throw this away!"

"I don't need this! I'm fine doing what I'm doing!"

"Bartending? I thought you wanted to be a musician, Soul!"

"Not if it means leaving you!" he snarled.

"What are you talking about?"

"Did you even _read _the paper?" It was already in her hands, but he shook it for emphasis.

She read it over, mouth moving silently, and when she got to the bottom, stopped. She looked up at him, eyes shiny. "Chicago?"

"I'm not going. I'm not packing up and moving just to play crappy background music for amateur pop singers."

"You're making this seem a lot smaller than it is. This could be your big break. More and more people will find out about you, and of course they'll all want to sign you, and you'll be famous, and…"

"Drop it."

"No! I won't! This isn't about me, this is about you! I want you to be happy! To have a real job, to feel like you're accomplishing something!"

"Accomplishing something? Well, what am I doing now?"

"Not living life to the fullest, that's for sure."

Soul bit his lip. "I _am _happy. I'm satisfied with how things in my life are going. I don't need you to try and interfere, okay?"

"I'm trying to help you!"

"I know you are, and I'm sorry if I don't sound grateful, but-"

"You have a gift! And you could be using it! I don't understand why you aren't even considering-"

"Maka! God, enough! I'm not my brother! Maybe this isn't what I'm meant to do! You're acting like my parents. Are you going to start telling me how to fold napkins? Leave me alone already."

She looked simultaneously angry and hurt when she stormed off.

"Shit." Sensing that he had about three seconds before she exploded or started crying, he went after her.

"Hey, I'm sorry." He sat next to her, but not close enough to touch. There was a science to defusing an upset Maka, and it included using words, not physical comfort. Soul, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. This made their fights and arguments really, really hard to get past.

He almost reached out a hand but stopped himself. "I acted like a big jerk, okay? I know you were just thinking of what's best for me, and I blew up in your face. I," he took in a breath, "just don't even want to think about leaving you."

She turned around, eyes looking big and brighter than ever with tears sparkling in the corners. "I don't want to be without you either." She let out a small sob and nuzzled into his neck. He kissed the side of her head.

"Just imagine it," he said. "You'd be all alone. All the time. I wouldn't be there to cook for you."

"Or tell dumb jokes," she added.

"Or squash spiders when you're too scared to."

"What a shame." She ghosted her lips across his jaw and smiled, still a little teary-eyed. "I don't like it when you're mad at me," she said quietly.

"I'm not mad."

"You were."

"But I'm not now."

"I still want you to go," she said so softly he almost thought he had imagined it. A two-ton weight dropped into his stomach.

"What do you want for dinner?" He got up and stretched, scurried away quicker than she could blink.

"Soul," Maka said after him.

He opened the fridge, ignoring her.

"Soul!"

"You know, mac and cheese sounds pretty good."

"Stop being such a baby."

Soul froze, hand hovering above the butter.

"Can't we just talk about this?"

"No."

"You're acting really immature right now."

"And I really don't care." He put the butter aside and skimmed the instructions on the box.

"Soul Evans, you listen to me right n-"

"Do you want me to go?" He slammed down the box, sending macaroni bouncing onto the floor. "Because it seems like you do."

"I'm thinking about your career, which is more than I can say for you!"

"If I accept, there's no telling how long I'll be gone. It could be months before I'm able to get back." He pointed a wooden spoon at her threateningly. "And you're totally okay with this?"

"It would be worth it! This is your dream!"

"Would you even notice I'd be gone?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.

She let out a scoff in disbelief. "_What?_"

"Well, would you?"

"Of course I-! How could you even ask that?"

_Because I'm an insecure, whiny little baby and I need constant proof that you still like me or my world will literally crumble. _"Because…. I don't feel like you would."

She stared at him.

"There's something different about you lately. I mean, it's probably nothing, but… is this… are we… not working? Because you can tell me if there's something going on, you know that, right?"

She was quiet.

"Oh my God. Are you cheating on me?"

"Soul!" The screech that came out of Maka's mouth sounded almost inhuman.

"Then what is it?" he demanded.

"You _asshole!_"

"_I'm_ the asshole?"

"How could you even think for a second that I would cheat on you? Are you that completely idiotic?"

"Yeah, because I'm constantly worried that you'll see some other guy and drop me like a rock! Because I'm literally nothing compared to everybody else! Because you're the most important person in my life and I don't know how I would even be able to get by without you!"

Oh, boy. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. Maka was looking at him like he was a wounded animal.

"You're worried about something like that? Wow, you're stupider than I thought." She shook her head.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I would never choose someone over you! You're mine! And I'm yours! That's how it's always been! And you know I would never cheat on you, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

She had a point. Soul mentally kicked himself.

"You really want me to go, huh?"

"Yeah. I do." She reached forward and pulled his waist to her. "I love you."

"I love you too."

But this was the right choice. He had to stay.

Right?

* * *

Three weeks later, he tried to remember why he had changed his mind.


	29. Bittersweet Endings

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

This is not the end. Our couple deserves a happy ending and I plan on giving them one.

* * *

After one week, Soul had admitted his defeat. He was going. Maka helped him pack up almost everything he owned into suitcases. "Six months," he said. "Six months and I'm back home. I'll call you every night. I swear."

Two weeks and they were starting to feel the anxiety rising. They had a long discussion about the days ahead; they would put aside some money for Soul's share of the rent each month and could Skype call and text and do whatever they could to see each other. Maka was oddly quiet through all of this, but Soul didn't notice or realize why until the day he left.

When the time came, they had a taxi drive them to the airport.

Jittery and on edge from stress, Soul waited in a gray plastic chair that bit uncomfortably into his back, fighting the urge to chew on his nails (that habit had only lasted for a little while when he was younger but it still came up from time to time), while Maka got them coffee. They sat bleary-eyed for a while until Maka spoke up.

"I don't think this is going to work."

The sip of coffee Soul was taking burned his tongue. "What isn't?"

"Us."

In truth, he had prepared and worried himself sick over this exact scenario. Maybe he would make one too many food jokes with punchlines like "and then the ranch said: 'close the door, I'm dressing!'", or maybe he would coddle her too much (or not enough), or she was still mad about that one time he sneezed on her while he was sick and they both ended up staying home with the flu, or this or that, but this was one place where he didn't think to imagine.

"Why now?" His voice was flat. There wasn't really a point in asking "why", although he still hoped she would say that too.

"I didn't want to drag it out. I wanted it to be painless. Like ripping off a band-aid. It hurts for a second, but then it stops."

"It's not going to just stop. You saw what happened to me after Penny. How do you think I'm going to be with you?" The paper cup was shaking in his hand.

"You'll get over me," she said, sounding faint and far away.

"No, I won't! How could you say that?"

She didn't let him take her hands, slipping them into her coat pockets. "A lot can happen in three months, Soul."

"Please. I just need to know what I did."

"It's not something you did. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then what is it? Don't give me the whole 'it's not you, it's me' speech, because we both know that's not it." His voice was shaking now too.

"I love you. But I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"This! Whatever we're doing! Long distance? You know that isn't me. Isn't us. We can't do this."

"We can work this out! I promise! Why can't we just try it?"

"No, you don't understand."

"You're right! I don't!"

"I'm sorry," she said, tears spilling over her eyes.

"Where are you going? Stop! Maka! Maka, I don't… I can't…"

"You're going to miss your flight."

"Hey! No, no, no, no, Maka, wait!"

"Do your best. I love you." She sounded hollow.

"_Chicago flight 2940 scheduled for departure in twenty minutes." _

"Shut up, intercom voice!" Soul cried, trying to push past people with small animal crates and welcome posters and businessmen talking hastily into their cell phones. "Maka!"

She vanished in the crowd, and he stood, turning on his heel in circles in the middle of the terminal. His head was spinning, and so was his vision.

"Son, are you all right?" A tall man with long blonde hair and kind eyes stopped by his side, a young girl perched on his shoulders. She was chattering away about what sounded like some cartoon about talking farm animals.

"Y-yeah, sorry," Soul said, heart sinking like the Titanic.

"Why do you look so sad, mister?" The girl's gaze was confused, like she didn't know how someone could feel bad when there was so much good in the world. It was innocence at its finest. Soul hoped she would be able to stay that way for a long time.

"I'm not. Don't worry about me, okay? I'm fine." He attempted a smile, but felt his mouth protesting with droopy lips, like it was saying, "_Really? You're really going to try and smile right now? You miserable bastard._"

The girl gasped. "It's you! It's you, I thought it was you!"

"What do you mean it's me?"

"Mifune," she squealed to the man, nearly jabbing him in the eye with a glove-covered finger. "I saw him at the store! He gave me gummy worms!"

"Gummy worms… Oh. Oh!" The little girl who said he and Maka were a good couple that one night. What perfect timing. His chest felt like it was tightening, and now here was this tiny kindergartener to finish him right off.

"Where's your friend? Why aren't you with her?"

Soul was shattering on the inside. On the outside, he forced a grin. "She had to go."

"Where?"

"Angela," Mifune warned, seeing the distraught look on Soul's face.

"I don't know. But I have to go now too." He ruffled her hair again. "Be good, you hear me?"

"Yeah!" She beamed at him.

Mifune put a hand on Soul's shoulder. He had that rare expression of understanding where he seemed to comfort him immensely, but at the same time he knew nothing about him. He was consoling, yet distant. It was weird, but he felt safe in an odd kind of way with this stranger. "You're going to be okay."

This time, Soul's smile was genuine. "Thank you."

So he got on his plane.

And he didn't fall apart when his phone had zero texts and zero missed calls. He swallowed when he saw his background, which of course was a picture of them together, put it in his pocket, and watched out the window as his plane ascended.


	30. The Twin Pistols

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

Posh might have been the right word to describe Soul's hotel room. It was his new home for the next few weeks while he started his work with Kid and yada yada. He would be moving to an apartment if all went well, (which basically meant "if Soul was good enough and/or if Kid didn't have one of his signature giant freak outs that scared away most clients") but that wouldn't be for a while, so he got himself familiarized with the lemongrass bath salts and hot towels and city view from his window that was so nicely polished he almost didn't notice there was actual glass there and nearly ran into it like an absentminded crow.

In addition to the room, he got a free pass to the swimming pool, the gym, and the all-you-can-eat buffet. After settling in, he decided to go for a swim to kill time before meeting his new boss. He got in a few laps before realizing that a very attractive woman was watching him.

She was lounging in a long chair like a cat, sipping a fruity drink and twirling the little paper umbrella with an almost sinister air, like she was thinking about how she was going to pounce on him. She flipped up her sunglasses, revealing sly orange eyes with fluttery lashes, which went well with her purple hair and matching string bikini. She looked familiar, yet he couldn't quite place where he had seen her from.

Suddenly feeling like he should leave, he got out, dried his hair as best he could, and slung the towel over his shoulder.

The woman nodded appreciatively at his physique, ice clinking in her glass as she raised it to him.

Soul's cheeks colored as he walked by her.

There was still an hour left until the conference, and a breakfast bar beckoning him with promises of scrambled eggs, buttered toast with strawberry jam, and coffee strong enough to knock him over. He settled into a chair with a plate of eggs and a mug of hot joe, trying not to inhale his food before he had a chance to taste it.

Two refills of coffee later, he was jittery and ten times more anxious than he was earlier. Hoping to walk it off, he went outside and was stunned to see that a cab was waiting for him.

"Are you ready to see Kid?"

_As ready as I'll ever be._

* * *

"Mr… Evans, was it?"

"Y-yes?"

"Kid will see you now."

Soul gulped and rose from his chair. As he made his way into the office, it seemed as though his body was moving without any command from his brain. He almost wanted to stop, turn around, and flee the building, but he was in too far and it was too late to back out now.

The office was even bigger than Soul's hotel room. A shiny chrome desk, topped with important-looking files and documents in two neat piles. Behind the desk was a face that he had only seen in pictures; a slim, angular face with piercing golden eyes and black hair with three lines of white that seemed to have been dyed into his bangs.

Below the picture was the real thing. Kid motioned to a chair, Soul sat down, and he began to speak.

"Hello, Soul."

"Hello," he replied tentatively.

"You don't have to be nervous. I asked to have a private conference with you so you wouldn't feel too stressed. I really enjoy your music," Kid said.

"_Oh_? I mean, um, oh."

"I have some people who are interested in working with you. I know it's fairly sudden, but they were quite eager to start. Are you familiar with the Thompson sisters?"

"Sorry, I don't think I am."

"They're an up and coming project. They work mostly in pop. Call themselves The Twin Pistols. Anyway, they are looking for a musician who specializes in keyboard. Your guitar skills will come in handy as well. You do have some experience? I was told you were."

"Some."

"Good. I'd like you to meet them, if that's all right with you?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Bring Liz and Patti in," Kid said into the intercom. A second later, two young women came in, both blonde. The shorter one, who was bubbly and way too energetic for eight in the morning, said her name was Patti, and that left the presumably older and less bouncy sister to introduce herself as Liz.

They talked for a while about what kind of music they were into, and Soul was happy to find that they responded enthusiastically to the bands he mentioned. Kid returned to play him a sample of a song they recorded together, and it wasn't actually as bad as Soul had expected. They spent some time discussing what Soul was going to be helping them with, and as soon as they finished going over the gist of things, Kid let them go. Soul was going to go back to the hotel to lounge around, flip through a car magazine or two, maybe sit on his bed and stare at his phone, fingers itching to dial Maka's number.

The girls didn't let this happen.

They confronted him before he had a chance to leave the building, Liz's eyebrows arched, her arms crossed over her chest, and Patti grinning widely, hands behind her back as she bounced on her toes.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

Soul scratched his head, trying not to look like he was totally lost and awkward. "My place, I guess. Why?"

"No way. We're not leaving you to mope by yourself on your first day here. It's Chicago, baby! Let's hit the clubs! Go dancing! Drink until we pass out!"

"Um..."

"Okay, minus that last part, but you get the picture. You seem like a cool guy. Wouldn't you rather be out having fun instead of sitting around watching shark documentaries?"

He was mildly offended, because that was actually what he planned on doing.

Liz clucked almost sympathetically. "You poor thing. Come on." She slung her jacket over her shoulder while Patti led the way down the street. "You're gonna need some better clothes," she added.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"They're _work clothes_. Ugh. We'll stop by our place for a second. There's got to be something that'll fit you."

"You have men's clothes?"

"You'd be surprised," Patti said. "Sis and find some pretty strange things."

"Whoa, whoa, _find_? Where do you _find _these things?"

"You ever been to a concert, Soul? Women throw bras and lipstick tubes and crap on stage. Men will do the same, if they get the chance. Before Kid found us, we were playing at any bar that'd take us. We've gathered a lot of stuff over the years."

"Someone even threw us a pair of boxers," Patti said darkly.

"I'll keep my underwear on," Soul promised.

* * *

When Liz said "a lot of stuff", that wasn't an understatement. The sisters had a large cardboard box stuffed with hats, mismatched shoes, scarves, bracelets, shirts, jackets (Soul noticed that they tended to wear some of those. He couldn't blame them, they were nice coats), and yes, underwear. They made him try on the things that weren't too stained or smelly, and after a few minutes, he ended up with a band tee and fitted jeans, replacing his button up and slacks. He protested over changing shoes though, since most of them were only lefts. His dress shoes weren't too bad. Liz thought otherwise, but she kept the eye-rolling to a minimum and scolded her sister when she tried putting a plaid fedora on Soul's head.

"All right, so you're not a total knockout, but you've got potential."

He wasn't sure whether to be insulted or pleased.

"Let's move out!"

* * *

Soul returned to the hotel at one in the morning, tired, sore, and wobbly-kneed. He didn't remember much, just something about doing the macarena, and lots of jello shots. His head hurt.

"Remind me to never go clubbing with the Twin Pistols," he muttered to the empty space on the other side of his bed.

The first day was over, and now that the excitement was done for the day, his thoughts drifted back to Maka. His momentary homesickness disappeared when he remembered her parting words. "_Do your best_."

He had a job. He had new friends. Liz and Patti were the coolest, and they were going to show him around some more tomorrow after work again. He had a bright future ahead of him, for once in his life.

For once in his life, everything was going his way.

Except for the fact that Maka wasn't here with him.

Back to what she had said...

He was going to do the very best he could.


	31. Homecoming

_A/N: I don't own Soul Eater or Indiana Jones. _

* * *

Five months flew by faster than Soul had ever imagined.

Liz and Patti's lyrics had been completed for a long time beforehand, so after they put together some instrumentals and a beat, they made the demos, and then came the practice sessions and eventually they were on their way to the recording studio.

Soul developed a nice friendship with those girls. They grew up on the streets of Brooklyn, and came to the music industry on advice from an acquaintance, who told them they had some real talent and shouldn't be wasting their time living paycheck to paycheck in some rundown one-bedroom apartment. Big sister Liz was very protective and caring towards her younger sibling, and constantly bailed her out of trouble. They were fiercely loyal to one another, something that learned from experience was impossibly important. They were tough and fun and outgoing, but they had a more hushed side that only showed when they were with each other. Soul and them bonded over Dirty Shirlies and the mutual love for Indiana Jones. (Harrison Ford, more specifically, but Soul denied this and said that he just liked _action movies_ before ripping his wet napkin into tiny pieces and trying to look busy.)

They talked a lot outside of work. The sisters admitted that they didn't have a lot of friends here aside from Kid, so it got pretty lonely. A third person helped solve both their musical and social needs, and Soul gratefully accepted their company. He told them all about himself, where he learned to play piano, what he'd been doing for the last few years of his life, about Maka.

Liz, being at least a little bit of a hopeless romantic, (not that she'd ever fess up to it) teared up when Soul informed them of their situation. Patti offered to call Maka to give her a good talking to, but he was so against the idea he nearly had to smash his phone against a rock to keep the younger Thompson sister from grabbing it. Man, that girl had sticky fingers. Like a little lightning-fast squirrel pickpocket ninja.

Yeah, okay, so maybe Soul thought about calling Maka from time to time. Not often, of course. Once a day or so. Definitely not more than ten times a day. All right, he thought about it every minute of every day. But what would that accomplish? A voice-cracking "I love you", "I miss you", "I wish you were here"? It would just make his heart hurt and possibly even disrupt his work ethic. No bueno. So he dealt with his stupid feelings and hid them way down inside himself where they would never come out. It stung for a while, but it became numb over time. No one brought up _her _name. Nothing reminded him of her. She was nonexistent, just a memory. It's not like she was thinking about him either.

* * *

With half of the album done and lots to celebrate, Soul was feeling good.

Sadly, it didn't last long, because coming into work today changed a hell of a lot more than it would have if he hadn't.

Kid had asked to talk to him, about the music. How it was coming, if he needed help with anything, the usual.

Soul sank deep into his cushy seat as he listened to Kid rant about how unfortunately he had parked his car that morning, that it wasn't as straight as he'd like and it was slightly over the white line. Soul didn't mind. He just enjoyed a cup of coffee and that heavenly chair he had grown to love like it wasn't inanimate and couldn't actually hear him when he whispered "you're the best" before leaving Kid's office.

But he wasn't focused on the chair's comfort level. There was an article sitting on the table that caught his eye. There was a girl in the picture. A girl with a sweater that looked just like Maka's. A girl with a smile brighter than the sun. Soul had seen that smile before; he'd _caused _that smile before. This was... Maka.

Holy _shit_, this was Maka. What was she doing in the paper?

Soul was too confused to function. Kid had to tap him on the shoulder when he looked like he had entered a different dimension.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm sorry, but what's that on your desk?"

Kid looked down for a second. "Oh, this? Today's newspaper. You may have it, if you'd like."

"Thank you." Soul's eyes flickered across the page, where a bolded headline read: "_New York's Newest Rising Star, Maka Albarn_". The black and white picture was of Maka herself, holding a book and grinning. She looked… happy. Really happy.

And suddenly every longing feeling he had held back came rushing into his system, the pining he had felt from being away from Maka, the pain of her goodbye, the loneliness he had experienced. It hit him like a punch in the face.

"Back to the record, what do you think about-" Kid stopped. "Soul, are you sure you're all right?"

"Yes. Sorry. Go on."

No, of course he wasn't all right. He was miserable here, even though he acted like he was having the time of his life. He missed Maka, he missed the apartment, and the bartending, and the cafe, Black Star and Tsubaki, going to the movies and being okay with just being ordinary. Here he was being treated like some big star.

He was just a guy who could play piano. And if he stayed, he would forget about his other life. He didn't want that.

He wanted Maka.

"I was just saying about the album. You, of course, would be credited on the front right next to Liz and Patti, and-" Kid cleared his throat. "Is there something wrong?"

Soul swallowed. "I need to get home." He stood up and turned, clutching the newspaper tightly in his hand.

"Soul, what-? What are you… Did I say something to upset you? I apologize, here, sit down…"

"I'm sorry, Kid," he said. "I just want to go home."

Soul was not supposed to leave Chicago for another month. As much as he pleaded, there was no plane to take him home and he couldn't ask Kid for a favor that big, especially since he just walked out on him like that. He felt guilty for leaving. Liz and Patti were counting on him, and he vanished. He had left them with no piano, no guitar, and no one to talk to. He wished he'd left a note.

It was eight hundred miles from Chicago to New York. No taxi would take him that far. Twelve hours would not be worth however much Soul paid them, anyway. He decided that finding the nearest rental car place and drive himself would be easier.

And that's exactly what he did.


	32. Another Lunch Date

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater, Monster Energy drinks, or Porta Potties.

* * *

Soul's key dug into his palm, and as he walked down the hallway he could only imagine what kinds of ridgey red bumps would be on his skin later, but his thoughts were full of her. Even his heartbeat was imitating her name, pounding out little thumps of _Maka, Maka, Maka _over and over like the anxious pitter-patter of rabbit paws. He was completely exhausted from the trip, and he didn't have time to sleep or rest at all. He just powered home with gas station beef jerky and energy drinks and the dreary-eyed promise of seeing _her _as his fuel.

* * *

Turning the doorknob was probably the most nervewracking thing he had ever done in his entire life.

The apartment was different. Some furniture was moved around. Where Soul's messy pillar of Frank Sinatra records had been, there was a neat pile of alphabetized books. Not Maka's, though. A lot of things weren't Maka's. That chair, those throw pillows, that bookshelf, that _pair of men's underwear laying on the floor. _The place didn't even smell like Maka, it smelled like… guy.

Soul looked around and was tempted to call out a "hello, anybody here?" but didn't. He dropped his bag and took in a deep breath. _Okay. Don't freak out. It's just a girl. You, know, your average, run-of-the-mill, love of your life. No pressure. Oh, crap, fix your hair, fix your hair! _He frantically tried to tame his wild mane, combing it with his fingers and hoping to God that he wouldn't have to resort to using his own spit to keep it from springing up again.

His hands were still in his hair when she came in.

It was kind of unreal. But also very real at the same time. His fantasies of her running into his arms and kissing the daylights out of him had deflated like an empty balloon, but it was okay because she was here and _so _beautiful in her striped pajamas even though she looked like she'd seen a ghost standing right in the middle of her kitchen.

"Hi," he said breathlessly. "I'm home."

"Babe, want me to make scrambled eggs?" A voice came from the other room.

"Who's-" Soul's voice died when Maka's face flashed something that was hard to read.

A man walked into the scene. He was tall, at least taller than Soul, which automatically made him feel threatened, had professionally tousled hair like he had paid someone to mess it up for him, and was wearing clothes that screamed to the world that this guy was an English scholar or something very similar. Anyone who could pull off a sweater vest was definitely not to be trusted. Sharp features plastered onto a handsome face, intelligent eyes behind black-framed glasses. "Who's your friend?"

Maka was still in shock at the sight of him so it took her a couple of seconds to regain her control of speech back. She was talking to the man, but staring at Soul intently like he was about to burst into flames. Like if she broke eye contact, he would disappear into nothingness.

"He's Soul. My, uh, old roommate. He lived here with me before you did."

"What brings you here, Soul?" His smile was perfect. Too perfect. Soul felt deeply self-conscious of his own set of chompers and made an effort to keep his mouth as closed as possible.

"He's visiting. From out of town."

"Yeah," Soul said. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd swing by to say hey."

"I can make some darn good eggs," the man offered. "If you'd like to stay for breakfast-"

Maka cut him off with "No, Akane, he was just leaving."

Akane shrugged. "Come back if you change your mind! It was good meeting you." He held out a hand, to which Soul shook stiffly.

"Can I talk to you, Maka? Alone?"

"Yeah. It'll be just a sec." Akane gave a little wave.

"What are you doing here?" Maka said as soon as they were out in the hall.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

"Soul. I can't do this right now."

"We need to talk."

She twisted her fingers together. "Meet me for lunch. Don't be late." She opened her mouth to say something else, but decided against it and closed the door quietly behind her.

* * *

Soul stood outside for a while making a list of good and bad things in his head.

Good things: Maka was happy. She had moved on. He was having lunch with her at their little cafe.

Bad things: Maka had moved on. Maka had a boyfriend. Maka had replaced him with another man. Maka was kissing him and letting him put his disinfected, Charles-Dickens'-page-turning, perfectly manicured hands all over her. Okay, maybe he was being a little harsh. Akane was probably a very nice guy. Soul just had a giant crushing feeling that was starting to swallow him up, so he needed somebody to point fingers at.

Another bad thing: He had a date with an angel, and he looked like shit.

He snuck past a ragged-looking man near the public restrooms and looked at himself in the cracked mirror. The dark beneath his eyes made him look even more like a vampire than he usually did, his hair _hadn't _stayed down, his hands were shaking, and when his breathing turned back to normal, he realized it wasn't just his hands but his whole body.

The bathroom was disgusting. The vomit-green tiles were coated with a layer of grime, the trash cans were overflowing with crumpled tissues marked with lipstick and bodily fluids and what looked like wads of bubblegum, and it smelled like the inside of a Porta Potty mixed with old lunch meat mixed with unwashed gym socks.

Soul splashed cold water onto his face, dried it with those rough brown paper towels that smelled like cardboard, and took in a deep breath, chanting a mantra of _don't mess this up._

* * *

She was there before he did, which was surprising for more than one reason.

"Hello." He sat down cautiously.

"Hi, Soul." She gave him a real, genuine smile, unlike the ones she put on at the apartment.

"Your hair's longer," he said, although not quite sure why.

"Oh." Maka touched it reflexively. "Yeah. I thought I'd let it grow out a little bit."

"It looks good. Well, it always does, but, you know."

"Thanks." Her eyes were searching him hungrily, like she was looking for something. He didn't think she'd find anything interesting. He was exactly the same.

She, on the other hand, was not. And it wasn't just her hair. The way she acted, something in her expression, the clothes she was wearing… She wasn't the same at all. But she _was. _Stirring sugar into her coffee and being careful not to spill any. Sticking the spoon back into her mouth and then setting it down on her napkin. Playing with her earring. Twirling the ends of her hair. It was downright freakish to see her doing these things, even though he had thought nothing of it five months ago. It was like a blessing from heaven itself just to see her wet her lips and hear the sounds of her spoon clink against the table.

She really was different. Could a person change so much in less than half a year? Well, duh. A person can change overnight. But this girl seemed foreign. More mature? Emotionally strong? She was happier in spirit, but there was something in her smile that didn't seem right.

"How's your writing coming?"

"Hm? Oh! Oh, Soul. It's amazing. I was featured in this poetry book! I published more than one piece! And a whole bunch of editors and publishers are calling me now, and it's just…" She gave a heartfelt sigh. "Amazing. I didn't know I could really do this. It all seemed so out of reach. And now it's real. It's kind of scary. But in a good way. How was Chicago?" She gave a little jolt. "Why… why aren't you still there?"

"It, uh, didn't work out. It wasn't for me."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Soul blinked. "Sorry?"

"This is what you've been preparing yourself for for years. What do you mean it isn't for you?"

"You know what, Maka? Maybe I'm just not good at this sort of thing. Maybe I just fucking suck at it, and that's why I left. Maybe Kid fired me."

"Bullshit. I know you too well. There's no way you could've gotten yourself fired from something you love this much."

"I don't love music, I love you!"

She put down her cup and looked crestfallen. "I knew that's what this was about."

Soul could feel his hope dying out. "What?"

"You can't do this to me. You can't just come back. It isn't fair."

"Fair? You wanna talk about fair? Okay, who's this Edgar Allen Poe wannabe leaving his sweaty boxer briefs all over your floor? Why is he making you eggs? Why is his shit in our apartment?"

"It's not our apartment. It's mine. You left. You don't get to decide who lives there."

"Are you fucking him?"

Maka's expression changed into a mixture of disbelief, shame, and disgust. "What did you just say to me?"

Soul was desperate. Desperately seeking some sturdy ground for him to get himself balanced on, desperately trying to get her from fleeing the table, desperately trying to keep his cool. He was losing in all three areas. "Maka… please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, I just-"

"Stay. Away from me."

"Maka!"

"Don't come back to the apartment. I'm not fucking around." She squeezed her hand in a fist, but it dropped to her side weakly. "Go back to Chicago."

_I can't. _

"Make your music. Meet someone new."

_I can't. _

"Because… I can't be that person for you. Not this time."

"I love you."

"I don't. I can't."

"You can't, or you won't?"

"I don't want you in my life anymore, Soul."

"I don't believe that."

"Then that's your problem."

He had no firepower left to fight with, no ammo, no secret weapon he could pull out like a shield from her stinging words. She left with no goodbye. He was left with a bill for a lunch he wasn't going to eat and broken glass shards lodged in his heart.

* * *

"_Don't come back to the apartment."_

There was nowhere for him to go. He didn't belong anywhere now. No place he could stay. Chicago was no longer an option. He had lost that when he walked out of Kid's office. He had ruined everything he had with Maka. She hated him and he loved her and she didn't want to see him anymore and he was going to throw up in the glove compartment of his rental car as he thought about what she said even further. He sat in the driver's seat and soaked in the fumes from the driving and the jerky wrappers and the remnants of Monster. He had made a promise to himself that he wouldn't cry. Thankfully there was no one around to see when he broke it.

Soul really fucking hated it when he cried. It was bad enough that he _did it_, since it was so badly frowned upon in the male community. He wasn't a pretty crier, either. His eyes got puffy and his face turned pink and his nose ran like a faucet and he would choke on his own tears.

Fuck crying. Fuck this. He was done.

Rotting in a car on the side of the road wouldn't do him any good. But getting alcohol poisoning? Yeah, now we're talkin'.

* * *

He walked into the nearest bar he could find, a grungy place called Mel's that he hadn't been to since he made the mistake of visiting when he first moved here, and plopped himself down on a worn leather stool. Emotions roared in his ears, blurring his vision; hopelessness, rage, a sadness so deep and gut wrenchingly awful that it felt like someone had just reached into his chest and ripped his heart in half. The only thing he could think was how drunk he needed to get to forget.

The bartender did not say a word, just set down a shot glass and filled it.

Soul drained it and slammed it back on the counter, waving his hand as if to say "keep it coming". After downing a few more mouthfuls of liquid oblivion, he heard a small cough, like someone trying to cover up their laugh. He looked around. A man, a couple stools away with his hood flipped over his hair, lifted the corners of his mouth in a half-smirk.

He knew that smirk.

Soul hesitated before saying anything. If this wasn't who thought it was… no, it couldn't be him anyway. It didn't matter. He raised the glass to his mouth, and saw out of the corner of his eye a flash of white when the stranger took down their hood.

"Wes." The word was hissed through his teeth.

The stranger stopped, and that slow smile spread across his face as sticky sweet as syrup. "Little brother."


	33. Oh, Brother

_A/N:_ I don't own Soul Eater.

* * *

The first thing that registered at the sight of his sibling was disbelief.

"Long time, no see."

Soul nearly choked on his spit. His tongue felt way too heavy in his mouth, suddenly it was hard to breathe. _They found me_, he thought, inwardly screaming his lungs out, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to run. The exit was only twelve feet away, at most. Could he make it?

"I know what you're going to say," Wes said. "'_How did you find me?'_"

What Soul _did _want to say was lost in his swirling whirlpool of thoughts. His body was frozen, he couldn't move or talk at all.

"I have my ways," Wes said, answering his own question. "I'm an Evans. There isn't much we can't do, eh?"

Soul fought the urge to just get up and race out the door. _Yeah, you go ahead and run. Stay a scared, pathetic little boy forever. _

"I'm not here to talk about Mom and Dad. They have no idea I came to see you."

"Then why did you?"

Wes blinked. "To congratulate you, of course."

"That's bullshit!" he yelled, swiping the shot glass off of the counter so it fell and shattered on the floor. He stood up, now face to face with him.

The room got quiet. The other patrons in the bar stopped talking and put down their half-empty glasses of warm beer.

The bartender looked from brother to brother and said nervously, "Guys, take this outside."

"Gladly." Wed backed out of the building, putting up his hood once again.

Soul slapped down a few crumpled bills for his liquor, muttered a soft "sorry" and followed him.

* * *

The rain hadn't let up. The sky was an ugly black. Wes stood in the alley next to the bar. He said nothing.

"Why are you here?" Soul shouted at him. "What kind of reason would bring you to New York, huh? And what was all that crap about congratulating me? What kind of sick shit are you trying to pull here?"

God, he wanted to punch that face, kick and pummel and beat that man until he was just as bent out of shape and useless and so, _so _small as Soul was, as Soul had felt his entire life. He could almost feel the sting of the blow on his knuckles, smell the rain and metallic blood on the asphalt. But he didn't throw the first punch. Or the second. Or any at all.

His brother stayed silent.

Soul's voice grew in volume, but still wobbled. "I haven't seen you in over seven years! What makes you think you can come back and act like nothing's changed?! Because _everything_... _everything's _changed." Hot, bitter tears pooled in his eyes, and he was screaming so loudly it was a miracle that someone didn't call the cops."I left because I wanted to go somewhere where I could be me, okay, Wes? Do you not understand that? This is the only place where I've ever felt acceptable. If you're trying to get me to come home, you can _fuck off_, because there's no way in hell that I'm ever going back."

"I'm here to congratulate you," Wes spoke quietly, "about your contract with Death Records."

"What?"

"I heard about Kid. Your music. He loved you. That's amazing. I had to say something. To tell you what I've never been able to tell you before."

"Oh, yeah?" Soul gave a somewhat deranged laugh. "And what's that?"

"I'm proud of you."

_Proud… of you. Of _you_. I'm. Proud. I'm proud of you._ The words bounced around in his head before he could process them.

"I was never able to tell you because you never listened." That hit Soul hard.

Suddenly images flashed in his mind.

_Little Soul, around seven or eight years old, at his first piano recital. He is nervous, shaking like a leaf, but his parents in the audience don't give him so much as a head tilt. No thumbs-up, no smile of encouragement. His brother grins, not that his younger sibling bothers to see it._

_Even littler Soul, pulling on his great-aunt's cat's tail until it yowls and scrambles up the expensive velvet curtains. He gets a good talking to by Mom and Dad, but his brother whispers words of praise. _

_Soul, thirteen years of age, writing his own music in secret and practicing it in the late hours of the night so his parents don't hear, but little does he know, someone else is listening._

Wes. Wes was there all along. He just never thought to check.

There was a something in his throat blocking his words. He wanted to thank him, to express all the love that he had so blindly ignored for years, but all he could do was look at him and hope that he knew what he was trying to say.

"You made something for yourself out here," Wes said. "You're special, Soul. You always have been. The way you make music yours. There's something about you that not a lot of people have."

"There's nothing special about me," Soul croaked. "If anyone's special, it's you. I was never as perfect as you. I never had a chance."

"You didn't need it. Are you kidding me? All I can do is play what's on the page and make small talk with old rich geezers who are more interested in looking down other women's shirts. I could never do what you can. Maybe that's why Mom and Dad…"

"Hated me?" Soul finished.

"They just didn't understand you," he said firmly.

"They didn't need to! All I ever wanted was for them to be there for me! What kind of parent would leave their kid out in the rain to walk home because they didn't win first place? If they were even the smallest bit supportive of me, do you think I still would have run away?"

"I'm not saying you should forgive them," Wes said slowly, "but try to. They love you, you know."

"They could stand to say it more," Soul said.

Wes looked sad. "That's not the kind of people they are."

"Yeah."

The older man straightened up. "So, what do you say we go back inside? You can tell me all about life in the Big Apple."

So they did. Soul explained everything: the trouble he got into trying to find work and a place to stay, freeloading off of part-time friends, getting his own place, losing his own place, meeting Maka, befriending Maka, moving in with Maka, kissing Maka, being with Maka, losing Maka.

"What happened to her?"

"She's at home, probably banging the guy that's living there in my place."

"Soul." Wes looked at him seriously. "You've been talking my ear off for over an hour. I mean, with good reason, I guess. Seven years is a long time to make up for. But with that said, I did not come all the way to New York just to hear you cry about some girl."

"She isn't-"

"She isn't some girl? Thank _God_. See, that's what I was looking for! You need to be passionate!. Fight for her. Don't let some creep in oxfords and button-ups take her away from you."

"But you're wearing oxfords... And a button-up."

Wes looked down in bewilderment, as if he had suddenly forgotten what shoes he was wearing. "Oh."

"Sorry. Go on."

"You say she's the love of your life?"

Soul thought about that. "Yes."

"You want to spend the rest of your life with this woman? Even if she gets annoying and bossy like they all do?"

"Trust me, I won't have that problem. She's already both of those things."

Wes nodded approvingly. "Go get her, tiger. Don't forget to make a big rom-com entrance. Spill some sappy speech, cry a little, sweep her off her feet." He held out a hand.

Soul went in for a hug. "Thanks," he said. "Do you have to get back home soon?"

"Unfortunately, yes. If I'm gone for too long, Mom and Dad'll freak. Ever since a certain someone left, they've been a bit wary."

"Wait! You're not gonna tell them where I am, right?"

"Soul," Wes said kindly. "I'm not going to ruin this for you. You've got it pretty good life here. Enjoy it, okay?"

"Can we… Can we keep in touch?" He knew that sounded stupid, but he didn't want this to be the last time he ever saw his brother.

"Sure thing. I already put my number in your phone, though. You were kind of distracted while talking about Maka."

"Oh… right."

"Hey. Good luck." He smiled.

Little bro knocked back another shot for his nerves, and then one more for good measure. He was already kind of tipsy from earlier, but now as he walked down the street, trying to find which way to go, he regretted drinking so much. Standing in front of Maka's apartment piss-drunk was not something that he wanted to do. But of course it happened anyway.


	34. Thirty Seconds (and Epilogue)

_A/N: _I don't own Soul Eater.

Also, I know Akane is deeply out of character. Just pretend for the sake of the story, please. Try not to hurl too much.

(Okay, so last chapter, am I right ladies?)

I've enjoyed this story so much. Thank you all for your support! It's been really nice writing for you and I'll be working on my next thing. Expect more Soul Eater. Because that's like 99% of what I write anyway.

* * *

Once Soul got to the building, he rang the buzzer/doorbell for her apartment. His vision was a little bit blurry, so he might have pressed the wrong number. After hearing a man shout angrily in Russian, he decided that he had indeed chosen the incorrect button and tried again. This time, there was no answer. He was very sure it was the right one this time because he remembered that he had drawn a small smiley face in pen next to her room number, so maybe she was just sleeping? Or busy? He rang it a second time.

"What do you want?" finally came her hushed, irritable voice. But nothing had ever sounded so sweet.

He was so convinced that no one would answer, now he didn't know what to say.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

"Maka," he said.

A pause. "Soul?"

"I'm outside."

"Yes, I know." She paused again. "Are you drunk?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"Are you all right?" she asked hesitantly. "Do you... need anything?"

"I've been wanting donuts lately, but I don't think that's what you mean."

"Cut the crap. Why are you here?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"I… I told you not to come back."

"Let me in, please."

"I can't."

"Please."

"Soul…" His name rolled off of her tongue. God, his name sounded so good in her mouth. He had heard it so many times, but each time it sounded different. Grumbled, when she was annoyed. Shouted when he had done something really bad. Moaned and muffled into a pillow when he was making her hurt in all the best ways. Laughed when he did something stupid, which was pretty much all the time. Cried when she thought she would never ever see him again.

His insides burned, his chest ached. He needed to see her. Needed to feel what he had been missing for four months.

"Maka." The word was not smooth in the slightest, it was a prayer, a plead.

"I… I'll be down in a minute. Don't come up."

* * *

She was wearing pajamas, but it didn't look like she had been sleeping. There were circles under her eyes.

"You look tired."

"Thanks."

"You're beautiful."

"Shut up."

"So which reason is it? You only wear pajamas all day and look like a fucking ghoul when you're either writing or sick."

"Or worrying about my sad excuse for a _friend_. With good reason. Where were you? You look terrible."

He only shrugged.

"Somewhere to get drunk, obviously." She rubbed a spot of leftover booze off of his cheek and looked at him in distaste, waiting for an explanation.

She was acting just like they had before, as if they were still roommates, still lovers. His stomach churned. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"You told me not to come back… I can't be happy."

"What?"

"I can't be happy… unless I'm with you."

"Soul." Her voice was mellow.

"No, listen to me," he said. "These past few months have been hell. I was all by myself, and I missed you every second I was away."

"I know you did."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" Shit, was his voice trembling? _Keep it together. _

"I thought I was holding you back." She twisted the strings on her robe around her fingers. "You finally got your big break. I couldn't get in the way of that."

"You could've called me. Or sent an email. Even a _letter _would have been fine. I checked my phone every two minutes just in case you changed your mind. _Maybe she wants me to come back. Maybe she misses me as much as I miss her. _I did this to myself for five months, Maka. I was dying. And you just… let me."

"No." Her eyes were brimming with tears.

Soul gave a hollow laugh. "How long did it take? For you to forget about me?"

"Shut up," she snarled, the tears beginning to fall. "Shut up, you have no idea how I felt. I was heartbroken. I missed you so much. If I got a penny for every time I thought of you, I wouldn't still be living in this dump." She pointed up to the building. "And how could you even think that I could forget about you? That's like trying to forget my entire existence! You have no clue how much you mean to me, you asshole!"

"What about me? I came all the way back home just to see some other guy where I should have been! I know I wasn't there when I needed to be, but it _killed _me to think that there was someone else with you."

"It would have been the other way around if you stayed in Chicago! You would have met girls! Pretty, interesting, witty, talented girls! I wouldn't stand a chance!"

"I didn't meet a single girl who I found attractive! The only one I ever have is you! Get your head out of your ass and think for a second, damn it!"

"I thought _you _would forget about me," she cried. "When Akane asked me out, all I could think of was you kissing other girls, so I said yes. It happened so fast, he started spending the night and eventually he was just there all the time, like…. just like you. And he was so nice. And smart, and gentlemanly. But he wasn't you."

"He wasn't?"

"Of course not. Nobody can compare to you."

"Really?" he said softly.

"Really," she said even softer.

The moments after this were so sickeningly cheesy and pathetically sweet that even their beloved Hallmark channel would probably reject it. Soul and Maka kissed like there was thirty seconds until the world ended and they were trying to make the most of it. It was like one of those movies where the two main characters who you were rooting for the whole time finally got together. It was a real tearjerker of a kiss. Soul imagined himself on the big screen while middle-aged women cried quietly in handkerchiefs and their husbands patted them awkwardly. Thank God for Wes. He really knew what he was talking about.

"I love you," Maka said, kissing every inch of him she could reach. His nose, his mouth, his jaw, his forehead, his brow. Each kiss crowned him her king, marked the man she wanted to keep for as long as she lived.

"I love you too," he said, voice almost breaking. Whew, that would've been unmanly. Good thing he had tears streaming down his face instead.

* * *

"Where are you staying?" Maka asked as they sat on the covered steps.

"Uh… nowhere." Upon seeing her horrified face, he answered hastily with "I thought I could just crash at a motel or something for the night."

She looked conflicted for a second. "You're coming home with me."

"Isn't Akane in your apartment?" Shit, Akane. What was that poor guy going to do? Soul just took over his lady and his house. Well, granted, Soul had lived there first and Maka was with him longer, but still.

"He's not coming back until late. Just stay in your room and he won't know you're here until the morning. And I was going to break up with him anyway. So, if he sees you here it'll just make things easier for me."

"Wait, what do you mean you were going to break up with him?"

Maka didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. "Do you remember when you told me that story about the red string? He isn't the one. I don't feel like I did with you. It's different. Less real."

"He'll think we're having sex right under his nose."

"Then you sleep in my room and I'll get back into bed with him."

"You moved into my room?"

"It smelled like you, so it was easy to pretend you were... there with me."

Soul's heart swelled. "You pretended Akane was me?"

"He's taller than you, but it worked for the most part. Until we started kissing. And you know what kissing usually leads to."

"So you did have sex with him." Soul had kind of assumed this, but now that it was actually there in his face, he wanted to scream and cry and punch something all at the same time.

"Um. Okay, we were about to, you know, do it, and he seemed really into it, but then I guess I started saying…. other people's names… instead of his…"

"You said my name while you were having sex with someone else? I love y-"

"DON'T EVEN SAY IT. Akane wasn't too upset about it, actually. He just stopped and told me that we could try again later."

"Are you serious? Maka, I-"

"DON'T SAY IT. Now do you want to come in or not?"

"Lead the way, my queen."

* * *

Even with Mr. Prepster McPreppypants's things taking up space, the apartment was a sight for sore eyes.

She made him something to eat and they talked for a while, drinking hot chocolate and huddling under blankets, trying to get warm. They also just stared at each other, drinking it all in. It was strange to be together after everything. Maka kissed him first, eager and hungry, like she was starving and Soul was a mama bird feeding his (her?) baby pre-chewed worms.

Maybe not the nicest comparison, but the point was that Maka was crawling into his lap and pressing herself against him and her breath was heavy against his neck when she paused for air. He was kissing sloppily, partly from his intoxication and partly from his lack of practice. Almost half a year without kissing anyone and now he was sitting with creamy marshmallow on his tongue and the most perfect kisser he had ever experienced putting her shell-pink lips dangerously close to that one place she knew would make him purr like a kitten. It was almost overwhelming, and he actually _did _make a loud noise of surprise when she held him through his boxers (how did his pants drop to around his knees? When had that happened?) and he wasn't sure if she was doing this because she wanted to say sorry, she wanted to show how much she loved him, or she was just horny. He hoped it was the second one, because he wanted the same thing.

The doorknob rattled and in about two seconds, she hopped into her clothes and threw Soul's pants at him as he hobbled into the hallway.

_Why did he have to come home now?_

_Just give us ten more minutes_, Soul pleaded silently. It was bad enough that his conscience wasn't clear all the while as he was kissing the inside of Maka's thighs. All he could think was how guilty he felt. She was still with Akane. This was cheating.

But the other thing he couldn't stop thinking about was how impossibly wonderful she looked on Valentine's Day, their special night at the hotel, with fiercely-gripped hands and bodies melded together and her flushed face gazing up at him with parted lips and-

Yeah, there was no way he could possibly jerk it with Akane in the house. Unfortunately there was no chance of getting off tonight, which really… sucked.

Soul kissed Maka one more time, as slowly as he possibly could, and whispered goodnight as he went to sleep in her room, which was now no one's room. There was a bed. His old bed. It was a little dusty, a little cold and a little lonely, but it was a thousand times better than sleeping alone in Chicago. But he was alone here too. Maka was in the same tight space as some stupid journalist, and they were probably sharing body heat. The mere thought of this made Soul's blood boil, but it was only a few hours until that gorgeous girl was completely his. It was only that that relaxed him enough to fall into sleep.

* * *

He woke up well after eight. It wasn't until he was asleep that he realized how tired he was. After a day of rejection, hard drinking, and yelling, he was completely worn out. Now he felt like he could start singing.

Well, maybe not.

He had walked out of the bedroom so many times he could do it with his eyes closed, and that's exactly what he did. At least, until he heard a surprised scream. Then his eyes snapped open and he saw the scene that laid before him.

Akane on the left, sitting with a cup of organic coffee in his hand. His eyes, hidden behind those glasses, were wide in shock. Messy hair. A little too messy. Soul knew all too well what after-sex hair looked like, and this was a first class example. He reached up to run his fingers through his own sadly flat locks.

"Wha-? Who-?"

"Hey, man, I can explain," Soul said.

"No," Maka interrupted. "Akane, Soul. My old roommate, remember?"

"What's he doing here?"

"He needed a place to stay."

"He _spent the night_?"

"It's not what you think," Soul said. "We only kissed."

"_Soul_, _you're not helping_." Maka looked at Akane helplessly. "I was going to tell you today anyway, it-it was just really bad timing that Soul came last night."

"Tell me what?"

"That we're not-"

"Working? Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

"Huh?" Maka was stunned.

Akane put a hand on her shoulder. "It's been fun, Maka. You're a good girl."

_Good girl? _

He drained his coffee cup, put it down with a _clunk, _and sighed. "Don't get me wrong. Living here was nice. And you," he shook his finger and chuckled in a way that Soul definitely didn't like, "were very nice. But it wasn't permanent. And it seems like you and your friend here have some history together. I wish you guys the best." He gave her a hug, patted Soul on the back, and whispered "enjoy her" in his ear. Soul, in turn, opened the door for him and stared murderously as he got together a backpack. "I'll be back to pick up the rest of my things. Have fun, kiddos."

Soul shut the door and stared at Maka as if to say "is this guy for real?"

"He had coffee breath," she said simply.

Not even a minute later, they heard a voice say, "Hey, there, I'm Akane" and then a girlish giggle followed by "Hi, I'm Blair".

"Those look heavy. Can I be of service?"

"Yeah, okay! Thanks!"

"You moving in?"

"Yes! Up on the fifth floor. Today's my first day."

"You chose wisely. It's a great building. It's got great tenants, too."

Soul mouthed something to Maka that looked like "holy fuck" but she couldn't be sure.

"Is that-"

"Uh huh," she said in a daze.

"Holy fuck." Yep.

"He sure moved on fast."

"Uh huh."

"'_Can I be of service_?' How lame can you get?"

"That's something you would say," she teased.

"But I wouldn't say-"

"Shut up. We have the whole place to ourselves, you know."

"You know," he said, "it's pretty gross to think that your junk was being occupied by a… how old was he again?"

With Maka's jaw hanging open like this, it was easy to occupy her mouth with his tongue.

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

So, it's funny how things turn out.

Before that year ended, an album was released. "The Twin Pistols feat. Soul Evans" turned into "The Twin Pistols feat. Soul Evans and Death the Kid". Yep, the boss himself decided to try his hand at making music instead of just supervising it to help fill up the rest of the album. Almost every song had Soul on piano, even the short demos he made on his own free time. He realized they must have gone through his stuff to find them, and felt a rush of compassion for his companions. He'd have to tell them to swing by when they came to tour.

But in addition to the money he got from the collaboration, he started getting phone calls. Like the ones that Maka had predicted when she first sent the letter. People liked his music. They actually liked it. They wanted to hear more, wanted to know if he had any other records, if he was interested in joining a band, if he was interested in making commercial jingles, independant film soundtracks. His head was spinning.

Maka, on the other hand, was getting more and more well-known. She put together a book on her own, and published it. She was a popular poet, something she'd never dreamed of hearing. She even got stopped on the street a few times. "Are you the Maka Albarn?" became a common thing to hear on the street, on the subway, in line for coffee. Well, that's what you get for putting your face in the newspaper.

After getting enough money to move out of Stein's place, they went on to buy a real house. With a backyard for their dog to run in (yes, they got a corgi shortly after moving in) and with time, kids, too. Focusing on work was important to the both of them, though, so for well over a year, they lived together and did just that.

Flash forward to a couple more years, and Maka's bouncing a snowy-haired infant in her lap while the proud papa nods off onto his wife's shoulder. Toy cars and teddy bears and building blocks lay across the floor, something that relentlessly plagues both parents since they end up stepping on some sharp plastic edge or squeaky stuffed animal every time they get up.

It's a process. They're getting the hang of it.

At least they aren't as terrified as they were crouching over a pregnancy test in the bathroom. Not nearly as scared out of their wits as they saw their baby girl for the first time, when they looked at each other and said what they were both thinking: how are we going to do this?

But the burping and feeding and pooping and bathing is all worth it in the end, because they know that one day that baby isn't going to be a baby anymore, and then Maka and Soul can tell her all about how they met. How the wedding photos on the fireplace mantel, the poet of the year awards, the record deals, the dog, the house, the kids (surprise, they end up having more than one), all came from a cup of coffee.

Sometimes they share a meaningful glance before their caffeine fix in the morning, because it's silly to think about how much of it was luck, but a reminder is still a reminder. And then after their java, they get a phone call from an annoyed Black Star, wondering when he's getting the money Soul owes him from some bet they made over too much beer and too little sense. Soul scratches the back of his neck as Maka hands him the phone, lips pursed, and he settles things before his lovely wife gives him the Lightning Glare of Death and sets up a playdate for their kids, which almost makes Maka give a resigned chuckle because she's very well aware of how much trouble it's going to be watching them. Their daughter gives even the great Black Star's son a run for his money. Thank God he soaked up some traits from his mother, though, like her black hair and at least semi-polite demeanor, because otherwise it'd just be like having a mini version of his dad.

"Tsu wants you to pay me back, right, Tsu?"

She scolds him on the other end. "_Oh, leave him alone, Black Star. Honestly_."

"Okay, okay. But seriously. You're not thinking of leaving us hangin' on the playdate, are ya?"

"Maka's already packing a picnic. Don't worry, there's no way for us to bail."

Black Star swears under his breath. "Damn."

"I heard that," Maka says, taking away the phone. "Nice."

"Come on, Maka. Can't you girls watch the squirts while me 'n Soul shoot some hoops?"

"You can play later. Work hard, play hard?"

"How about play hard, work little. Sleep hard."

"I'm going to punch you through the phone."

"Try it. Ten bucks you can't-"

"_Black Star_!"


End file.
